You Leave the World Behind
by Moriarty's Minion
Summary: Part 1 of a HP/Supernatural crossover series. After an incident with the veil, Harry starts a new life in California. There he finds the Winchester family and a new destiny. H/D. SLASH. COMPLETE. Winner of TWO Always Hoping Fanfiction Awards.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

**Genre:** Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major **SLASH** themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Prologue**

"_I've seen it all before,_

_it happens all the time._

_You're closing the door,_

_you leave the world behind."_

- Foreigner, _Cold As Ice_

"Can you feel it, Harry?"

Harry held back a sigh at these all too common words. Albus Dumbledore may have been a retired teacher, but Harry was quickly discovering why he was still called _Professor_. He never stopped trying to impart wisdom to those around him.

Unfortunately, these were lessons Harry was in dire need of learning.

The discovery that Voldemort had employed the use of horcruxes to safeguard his life had led to another delightful revelation: that there was one within Harry. If only everyone could experience the joy of having a fragment of an evil wizard's soul locked away within them.

"Harry, my boy?" Albus prompted him again. "Are you quite alright?"

Harry was supposed to be "sensing" his surroundings. He looked out the window and could see the slight haze in the air where the anti-muggle wards created a boundary that protected the Wizarding world from the non-magical one. Harry managed not to shiver as the car drove through them.

Besides his psychic connection with Voldemort, his parsletongue ability, and the curse scar Harry had received a few other little _gifts_. A boost of power that put Harry well beyond his peers was but one of them. According to Albus it would take quite a few decades before Harry hit his level of power and the skill needed to manage it. According to Hermione, that didn't mean he shouldn't start training now. If you asked Harry, Albus and Hermione had way too much in common when it came to educational ideals.

"Harry!"

He jerked his head at the irritated sound in Albus' voice.

"What, _Albus?_" Harry snapped, letting his own irritation seep in.

"Did you feel them?"

Harry glanced at his traveling companion on the other side of the limousine the Ministry had provided. Looking at the older man's face he got the distinct impression that he was, yet again, regretting the decision to put his former student on a first name basis.

"Yes, Albus, I did indeed feel the wards."

"And?"

"They felt warm, then cold, and slightly wet. They also misted over slightly."

To anyone else, this conversation would seem ridiculous... even to most Wizards. However, this was quite common a topic between Albus and Harry. Even if the old coot did make Harry feel crazy every now and then.

"And why is that?"

"It's the response of older wards to the feel of our stronger magic," Harry responded blandly. "The two forces meet, creating steam to those capable of seeing it."

Albus nodded his head, pleased with the answer. "You're magical senses are improving."

"I do keep up my practicing, you know," he answered defensively.

"Yes, I have been made aware of that."

Harry smiled as Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably across from him. Hermione, who had been apprenticing under McGonagall for a few years now, had been his steady study partner since Hogwarts. She may not have had the magical capability to sense and manipulate magic, but that didn't stop her from learning the practical knowledge of it.

Harry had no misconceptions that the witch would be able to refrain sharing her newfound knowledge with the other Hogwarts educators. No doubt she was constantly entrapping Dumbledore into lengthy intellectual discussions about it.

_Better him than me_, Harry thought wryly.

"Miss Granger does indeed love to learn, Harry," Albus chuckled wryly. Sometimes Harry swore that if he hadn't taught him Occlumency so well, that the old headmaster could read his mind sometimes. "You should hear her at the Order meetings."

Harry visibly tensed. As much as he enjoyed teasing and ruffling Albus' feathers (and vise versa), there was only ever one thing that the pair truly came to verbal blows over.

"Molly Weasley has been inquiring after your absence from the meetings of late."

Harry shrugged. "I don't see why you even have an Order anymore? Voldemort's dead. You and I saw to that."

"Not all of him."

The limousine came to a halt, preventing Harry's angry retort. It was an old argument, and one he was growing increasingly tired of. Harry loved Albus like a second father, but sometimes it felt like he'd never truly let Harry live life. Harry wanted to move past the war, not relive it.

Albus pulled out his wand and a moment later it began to stretch and thicken into a lovely cedar walking cane. Even after spotting the wards, Harry had forgotten they'd be in Muggle London for their errand.

"Now you," Albus said, nodding to the wand in Harry's hand.

While Harry knew it was childish he felt like showing off. He'd been treating Harry like a simple First Year all day. Harry flicked his wrist and the wand flew into the air, stopping directly between them. The wand burst into flames, and then the ashes flew back together to form a red and gold umbrella.

"Feeling reminiscent of Hagrid?" Albus chuckled, clearly pleased with how proficient his wandless magic teaching had been.

Harry gave him his best Draco Malfoy smirk before he climbed out into Muggle London. Harry climbed out after him, brushing out the folds of his nice black suit as Harry stepped onto the cement sidewalk.

There was a crash of thunder and then the rain began to pour in sheets, as they so often did in England. Harry opened the newly transfigured bright red and gold umbrella over his head, having made sure it was only large enough to cover one person.

He knew that now that they were in open view of Muggles (especially _these _Muggles) there was nothing Dumbledore could magically do to help himself. Albus grumbled something unintelligible at him as he rushed the last dozen feet to the entrance of the building. He may be old, but he was spry.

Laughing like a madman, Harry called after him, "What's wrong, Albus? Didn't you _sense_ the rain?"

_Let's see his cane keep him drier than my umbrella_, Harry thought.

Harry managed to keep his smile as he stepped through the revolving doors that led into the lobby of the museum. Albus hadn't waited for him, as punishment for his prank he'd let Harry find the room all on his own.

The damage inflicted by Voldemort on Muggle Europe had left little doubt that there was something happening deep within the skin of the country. Three months later and the Muggles were still terrified to leave their homes. Not that the magical community of Great Britain was recovering any better.

Scrimgeour and Albus had set up a meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister and the Queen herself. As the so-called _Hero_ of the war, Harry was expected to come and show his support for the joint effort. To mark the occasion, a magical object was being given to the Muggles for safekeeping.

Harry really should have been more excited. As his friends had continuously reminded Harry for the past week, he was being given a front row seat to what was going to be the most exciting event in the history of the world. _The Great Revelation_ as it was being coined by the Minister, was set for October and there was plenty to plan for.

After all, it wasn't every day that the Wizarding World was going to come out of the closet and announce itself to the Muggles once and for all.

The war with Voldemort hadn't been pretty, but at least Harry had gotten to graduate before it had really started up. It had only been the July after graduation that the Order found Horace Slughorn with the Death Eaters. Snape had led the Order to him, and then Albus had bribed a certain memory out of him. After that Albus and Harry knew they were hunting horcruxes, and all that was left to do was identify and find them.

After the prophecy had come out in Harry's seventh year, the Ministry got involved in his education. At first Albus tried to stop them, but Scrimgeour, who'd taken over when Fudge was assassinated, had persuaded Harry to join forces.

Scrimgeour was a hard man, but practical; traits Harry had found admirable in a Minister. He and Harry never really saw eye to eye on his prophesized role in the war, but he did what he had to do to survive. Essentially, since the prophecy named Harry as the only one to be able to kill Voldemort, Scrimgeour saw it as his job to make sure that Harry was well prepared to do carry out the task.

Of course, it seemed so simple when he had explained it like that. How could Harry refuse training? After all, it could only improve the odds of survival as well. The next week Harry was training with the best that the Ministry could afford… which was a lot.

Then Albus got on board the Let's-Train-The-Boy-Who-Lived wagon and started teaching Harry how to use his hidden reserve of magic. He told Harry that some had more than others; namely Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Harry.

It wasn't enough to just be able to have magic, you had to know enough to use it. What Albus showed Harry was like art. There was a beauty to having magic, and even more in how it was used. Any thug could wave a wand and cause havoc to their opponent, i.e. Crabbe or Goyle. It took a real wizard to make it truly come alive.

In the end it was learning that control that kept Harry motivated more than killing Voldemort. Sure he wanted revenge for the parents he'd lost, but they were practically strangers to him. Harry mourned the unfairness of not getting to live the life he would have, but after getting to Hogwarts he had coped and became happy.

The only motivation that rivaled Harry's fascination with becoming a real "artist" of magic had been avenging the friends lost in the war. Sirius was the hardest. He'd never forgotten him falling through the veil. Harry still dreamed about it.

When Albus didn't need Harry's assistance or when Scrimgeour didn't need him to put his pretty face in front of a camera, Harry would sit by the veil and just listen. Once Harry thought he had heard Sirius loud and clear calling out for him, but he had dismissed it as a byproduct of longing.

Ron had been pretty worried that Harry would do something stupid, like jump into it. He'd had Hermione talk to Harry about it one night, and he had been forced to promise her that he would never dream of killing himself in such a way.

That was the first time Harry realized how well he could lie to his friends.

Even as a new era dawned in the world, Harry could only think of what he'd uncovered about the veil.

That was the real reason Harry had agreed to attend the ceremony today. The magical artifact being presented to the muggle government was the Death Veil that Sirius had passed through.

Tonight, in front of both worlds, Harry was going to join his godfather. He only wished he could trust his friends and family to agree to his decision, but he knew that was a pointless hope. They would never willingly let him go.

Harry shook off his inner musings as he took his seat next to Dumbledore.

A new Death Chamber had been magically constructed and reinforced beneath one of the more prominent London museums. On the observer benches above the pit, seats had been assigned for the prominent guests.

Harry took a deep breath before placing a hand on his mentor's shoulder. Albus looked at him inquiringly but, before he could so much as ask what Harry had wanted, Harry cast the binding spell through his connecting hand. Albus didn't have time to react as he had not expected such a betrayal from Harry.

Harry looked around to make sure no had witnessed the display of power. After he was sure he was undetected, Harry leaned in to comfort his teacher.

"I'm sorry, Albus."

He could read the fear in his Dumbledore's eyes.

"I'm going to miss you, Albus," he confided, fighting his own tears. "This is something I have to do."

Harry began whispering the research he'd done on the veil. He explained his plan, but he had no way of knowing if it brought comfort to his substitute grandfather-figure or not.

"I have to go now," Harry informed him. "I've left some letters with more information for you and the others at my home. You'll know how to find them."

He could already feel Albus fighting the spell. Harry knew not to waste anymore time trying to explain his actions. He kept his legs steady as he marched down the steps towards the platform. The only obstacle in his way was a Muggle guard who was easily dispatched with a silent "imperio" and a mental nudge.

A slew of red stunners flew at him, and Harry dodged them all. Albus had broken through his magical restraints faster than Harry had anticipated. Already, the old man was yelling instructions to those around him.

_So much for a quiet and dignified exit_, Harry thought. He broke into a run, climbed the steps, vaulted over the pedestal, and launched himself into the air at the veil.

As he passed over the threshold of the veil, he imagined that this was what turning into mist felt like. He simply dissolved away into the darkness of the cloth and the unknown future ahead of him.

Harry had developed a deep distaste for most magical means of transportation. Riding the floo always landed him on his ass, and the soot made his clothes filthy. The Knight Bus, whilst entertaining, was a ridiculous contraption and more like a roller coaster than anything else. Brooms were the best, but what do you do for the rain and in snow? However, Harry thought he'd never find anything he hated more than traveling by Portkey.

Until now.

The veil was a healthy, or rather unhealthy for him, mixture of the magical transportation experience. There was the senselessness of the Knight Bus, the tornado-like spinning of Portkeys, the suffocation of the Floo Network, and the exhilaration of broom riding. And, as always, his body had the same reaction to being thrown around as it always did.

The moment his feet touched something solid he was on his backside, dizzy, and spewing chunks like a Roman fountain. As he moved away from the mess he left on the metallic floor, he realized he was on a subway train. The train must have been in a tunnel, Harry deduced based on the darkness outside the train windows.

"Welcome, Harry James Potter," said a deep voice to his left.

When Harry saw the man who had spoken, he was amazed. In his wildest fantasies he had pictured meeting his family beyond the veil. Most of the time he believed he would spend eternity with his godfather. No matter what his imagined destination, Harry had never believed he would encounter his own father immediately, but there before him was the man he watched dance eternally with his mother in the scrapbook Hagrid had made for him.

Harry tried not to react too harshly to his father's appearance on the subway.

"Dad?" he asked, voice quivering.

The man who was James Potter's doppelganger shook his head in response. Harry felt his heart sink in his chest. If his life had taught him anything, it was that hope only led to disappointment or pain; or in this case both. Why should death have been any different?

"Hello, Harry James Potter," the figure of James Potter said cordially, extending a hand.

Harry shook it numbly.

"If you're not my Dad, than who are you?"

The figure smiled, but gave no indication that he was ever going to answer. Harry decided to try a different question.

"Where am I?"

The figure made a point to gaze around the train, before returning his attention back to Harry.

"Tell me, Harry James Potter," the familiar looking man asked inquiringly, "what do you know of purgatory?"

Beneath him, Harry could feel the rumbling of the train.

"Purgatory?" he asked the image of his father.

James Potter nodded thoughtfully.

"It's where people go when they die, right?"

His father considered the explanation for a moment. "That is one possible explanation. Apparently a popular one among humans."

Harry shivered at the suggestion that the being wearing his father's features was not human.

"Are you an angel?" Harry asked.

James Potter managed a small upward curve of the side of his lip. "What I am cannot be described in such simple terms of angel or demon, heaven or hell, life or death."

"Helpful," Harry replied, feeling his natural sarcasm returning, "very helpful."

The smirk disappeared from his father's face.

"Purgatory," he intoned, "is merely the transition between two locations. The journey that one takes from one moment to the next."

"Like a train going nowhere?" Harry asked, eyeing the vehicle around them and the black view outside the window.

"Yes, Harry James Potter, _this_" said James Potter with a wave to their surroundings, "is your spiritual purgatory."

"So I am dead then."

"Yes."

Harry had known that this could have been the outcome of his journey into the Veil. He looked up suddenly at his father.

"What about Sirius?" he demanded, "where is he?"

"Your godfather is no longer in purgatory," James explained. "He has moved beyond the intermediary."

"But you can take me to him, right?"

James's gaze felt heavy on Harry.

"You may not find that the world Sirius Black III chose is the same one that you desire to end your journey on," he warned Harry.

"What do you mean he 'chose' a world? How do you get to choose a world?"

"What your race referenced as 'The Veil' is actually a gateway between. Literally a means of traveling to purgatory," James explained. "An impressive contradiction in creation, if one looks at it correctly, since purgatory is the journey and not the location."

"I still don't understand."

"To journey solely to purgatory is a contradiction in the creation of the creator," James continued as if never interrupted. "One must complete their journey. You must choose a forward destination, going backward is to not make a journey. "

"Look," Harry said, exasperated, "I don't care if Sirius chose a world where Voldemort only wore thongs, okay? I just want to be with him again… he's all I have left."

"So you've chosen then?"

Harry stood and faced his father, "Yes."

James nodded in confirmation, and Harry heard the squeals of the metallic brakes as the train began to slow.

"I feel I must warn you, Harry James Potter," James said seriously, "that time does not stop. It is in constant motion, even if the space between worlds is not."

"So, time has continued on outside even while I've been in purgatory?" Harry asked, attempting to decipher his father's words.

"Yes."

"How much time?" Harry asked, a knot forming in his stomach.

The train came to a full stop.

"It was 1998 when you left your world through The Veil," James explained. "The length of our time together in purgatory occupied 4 years. It is currently 2002. Happy Millennia."

Harry felt his mouth hang open in shock.

"4 years?" he asked breathlessly, before the anger hit him, "4 YEARS!?!"

James was not moved by the outburst in the slightest. He didn't even have seem to have heard Harry.

"But I haven't aged any!"

"Like I said, time continues to move outside purgatory; not within."

The doors to the train opened into the blackness beyond.

"This is your second beginning, Harry James Potter."

"Is there anything else I should know?" Harry asked indignant.

"Such as?" asked James, eyebrows raised in question.

Harry suddenly knew what question he had overlooked, possibly _the_ most important question.

"Hey," Harry said, turning his back on the black abyss, "what kind of world did Sirius ask for?"

For the first time since the beginning of their encounter James smiled completely. Harry barely felt the push James gave him, or the moment his feet left the train floor.

Then all was darkness.

Word Count: 3,405


	2. Then

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

**Genre:** Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major **SLASH** themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry (except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1). All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 1:**

"**Then"**

"_He's come a long way in life,_

_he's got a long way to go,_

_and he don't even know,_

_but he doesn't care because_

_he's growing up the hard way."_

- Foreigner, _Growing Up The Hard Way_

Upon his returning to the land of the conscious, Harry's first thought was, _why is it always a graveyard?_

Harry had awoken from purgatory next to a small headstone. At first he felt the panic that his nightmares from his fourth year had returned with a vengeance, but this was not the same graveyard. The other aspect of his situation that Harry noticed, was that he was completely naked.

Harry had never been so thankful for his wandless magic ability. Waking up naked, desolate, and alone in yet _another_ graveyard tended to make him feel grateful for transfigured clothing. One tree branch and three rocks later and Harry had a full set of clothes and hiking boots to make his way out of… wherever he was.

Not knowing where he was or how far he was from home, Harry felt apparating might be a bit of a risk. He was pretty sure that whatever force had sent him to his current destination had not been kind enough to leave him a broom since clothes were apparently not a thought.

Behind him was a massive structure that appeared to be some kind of mausoleum. It was obviously very old and, based on the height of the grass surrounding it, not very well kept. The air in front of the door seemed to shimmer, like truck exhaust in sunlight. Harry reached out with his magical "sense" and felt sick. There was something just plain evil trapped within the structure.

For the first time in his life, Harry turned and walked in the other direction of evil.

He followed the uneven trail between headstones until he reached a man-made dirt road. At the mouth of the road was a large iron gate. Harry read the words backward that declared he was inside "Kripke Cemetery."

"Wherever the hell that is," he muttered, already climbing over the locked gate.

_THREE HOURS LATER_…

"So how'd you end up way out here anyhow?"

Harry looked at his traveling companion, Buck, the truck driver he'd been able to wave down after an hour with his thumb in the air. Harry shrugged.

"Same old, same old, I guess," Harry said dispassionately. "Road tripping with friends. We got in a fight, I bailed."

"Road tripping all the way from merry-old England?"

"Well I had to see the great state of Wyoming at some point, right?" asked Harry, knowing full well how much Buck prided himself on being born there.

"Hell, yeah, you did!"

Buck turned up the music and began signing along to some rock song. Harry didn't care much for it, but that just made it easier for him to tune it out in his head. Harry wondered why he would be dropped in the middle of Wyoming, USA of all places. Merlin forbid he be left naked in a penthouse in Malibu or something.

During his three hour walk, Harry began to truly realize the plight of his situation. He had no money, no clothing beyond what he had transfigured, no place to live, and no practical experience in this new world.

What if his godfather had chosen to live in a world where there was no cheese or something? Or a world where everyone used fire hydrants instead of toilets? The padfoot side of his Sirius' personality would have found that appealing. Harry wasn't sure he even existed in this world.

He needed answers, and he needed them sooner rather than later.

"…sweet tasty lady of mine!" Buck finished singing along to the music, before turning the volume dial down. "So where are you staying tonight, Harry?"

"I'm not sure honestly," answered Harry. "I guess a hotel or something."

"Well, there's a place we truckers like that isn't too cheap and isn't too expensive, you know?"

Harry nodded along regardless. "That sounds great."

"Goooood," said Buck, drawing out the vowels. "I'm looking forward to buying you a stiff one."

Harry hoped his smile didn't reveal the disgust hidden beneath. He had no illusions about why Buck had been the first person to stop and offer him a ride. Over the last two years at Hogwarts Harry had really begun to fill into himself. His training with the ministry kept him in good shape, and the publicist that Scrimgeour hired had taught him how to appear more attractive.

Harry remembered meeting Lucy for the first time.

"_Harry," Scrimgeour called, "this is Lucy. Lucy, this is the Boy-Who-Lived."_

_Harry let the Minister squeeze his shoulder to demonstrate their familiarity in front of the new stranger. Rufus had found Harry's fame with the press to be a godsend during the darkest parts of the war. _

_Unknown to the Minister, his plan to appear close to Harry would be his untimely undoing. Voldemort incorrectly assumed that the man's death would emotionally cripple Harry and had the politician assassinated._

"_A pleasure, Harry," said Lucy, her Australian accent ringing true._

"_Lucy is from the PR department, Harry," Rufus explained in answer to the unspoken question in Harry's gaze._

"_PR as in Public Relations?"_

"_You didn't think we'd only be training you to fight did you, my boy?" asked Rufus, his deep laugh booming throughout the room. "You're in the public eye now, Harry. We can't have you running around in those hand-me-downs anymore."_

_Harry had fought the clothing thing for awhile, but eventually he realized how much nicer it was to not be in Dudley's clothing that were several sizes too large._

_A few months later, Lucy confided in Harry that she was the youngest girl in the PR department._

"_That's why they gave the job to me, you see," she informed him. "I have a youthful eye so I simply must know all the new trends and fashion statements."_

"_You do though, right?" Harry asked nervously._

"_I do what, Harry?"_

"_Know the trends and stuff. I don't want look any more foolish than I need to."_

_Lucy giggled and slapped his arm lightly._

"_Don't fret, Harry. When I'm done with you, you'll be fending those hot young wizards off at wand point."_

_She laughed until she realized her mistake. One look at Harry's pale face, and she knew she had misspoke._

"_Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I never meant to imply ---"_

"_No, Lucy, it's fine," he said shakily. "Is it really that obvious?"_

"_Don't worry, it's not stapled to your forehead or anything," she said, comfortingly. "My older brother, Jack, back in Brisbane, he likes blokes, too."_

"_So I act gay," Harry muttered miserably. "That's so much better."_

"_Well it's only obvious because you never try to look down my shirt," Lucy said, all joking aside. "I can't tell you how many times I bend down to tailor pant legs and people take a peek."_

_Harry cracked a smile._

"_So I'll have my pick of blokes then?" he quoted her teasingly._

"_Absolutely."_

Harry realized the truck was slowing, and in the distance he could see the glare of a neon sign.

"You nodded off there a bit, Harry," Buck said. "I was gonna wake you, but you looked so… comfortable."

Harry was suddenly reminded of Lucy's comment about men taking glances at her when they didn't think she was looking. He shivered.

"Thanks, Buck."

_There's no way I'm staying at the same hotel as this guy_, Harry promised himself.

The moment the truck slowed enough to jump out safely, Harry mumbled a quick thanks and was out the door.

The motel lobby was disgusting. The counter hadn't been cleaned in years, and the smell was beyond foul. Harry didn't even bother making pleasantries with the motel clerk. He eyed the rack of U.S. maps and tourist brochures until he found one that looked promising.

He snagged the brochure for Mt. Rushmore and marched out the double doors, back into the parking lot. At the far end of the lot, Buck was cussing a storm and had only just parked.

Harry ducked behind the nearest car, pictured the map location in his mind and disappeared with the faintest 'pop'.

_4 DAYS LATER…_

Harry appeared outside of Kings Cross Station completely undetected.

Harry began testing himself for signs of splinching. After several minutes of what must have appeared to be sexual groping, he was satisfied that there were no body parts missing.

Over the last several days he had been jumping from one time zone to the next, taking his time so as to never tire himself out. So far this world appeared to be identical to his own. He couldn't afford to be magically exhausted in case some new danger appeared out of nowhere. Apparently his war training hadn't been left behind in his old world.

Harry mentally shook his head clear off thoughts about his old world. That part of his life was over, his father had even said so in purgatory. Besides, he had a job to do here.

As the afternoon rush kicked in, Harry joined the swarm of flowing people. His seeker skills allowed him to flow between individuals faster than the crowds around him. He slowed his pace as he reached Platform 9 ¾.

The American newspaper had told him it was July 2002, so he wasn't expecting any Hogwarts students to be milling around. It still didn't stop him from eyeing a pair of teenagers hanging around Platform 8 suspiciously. He took comfort in the presence of the familiar security guard that always seemed so annoyed with his job.

Harry made sure no one was looking, before heading confidently towards the magical entrance to the Hogwarts Express and then…

The barrier smacked him full-on in the face, knocking him down onto the stone platform.

A crowd gathered around him.

The angry security guard approached muttering something unintelligible.

"Are you alright?" someone asked.

The two teenagers at Platform 8 began to giggle.

Harry's hope was hanging on by a thread, and an urgent suspicion bloomed within him. No longer caring who was witness to the event, Harry barely made it out of sight before apparating. As it was, he heard the two teenagers gasp before he was fully gone.

When he re-materialized he was in a thick forest in Scotland. He cried out in frustration and apparated again.

This time he was back in Muggle London at the phone booth that served as the public entrance to the ministry of magic. Harry threw open the door and lifted up the phone with such force that the cord almost snapped free.

There was no voice on the other end.

Harry used his magical "sense" to feel for the magical controls that caused the shaft to open. He felt none.

Taking another shot to prove his suspicion wrong, he apparated to the street outside The Leaky Cauldron. His magical sight revealed nothing between the two Muggle shops.

In one last desperate attempt, Harry found himself outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. Not 12 Grimmauld Place that magically revealed himself, but the normal, everyday 12 Grimmauld Place that was always visible to the world.

Harry felt his legs give out beneath him. He ignored the pain of his tailbone hitting the cement sidewalk.

At that moment Harry knew exactly what his godfather had wished for.

After a lifetime of warring wizards, dark magic, death, soul-sucking Dementors, wrongful imprisonment, death veils, and killing curses his godfather had blamed his plight in life on one thing: magic.

At that moment Harry felt such a fool. He had been so desperate to find the one person he never could have, that he had traded his entire world for the slim hope of finding his godfather.

He was alone and, for the first time since his 3rd Year, Harry hated his godfather. Sirius had left him with one cold, chilling truth until the day he died:

Sirius had wished for a world without wizards.

WORD COUNT: 2,019


	3. When Harry Met Dean

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

**Genre:** Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major **SLASH** themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry (except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1). All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** This is the **last warning** you will receive about the extremely **explicit**, **graphic**, and **sexual** events (**SLASH**) that occur in this chapter.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 2:**

"**When Harry Met Dean"**

"We got to make tonight

a night to remember;

We're going hard and strong

again and again."

- Foreigner, _A Night to Remember_

PREVIOUSLY…

_At that moment Harry felt such a fool. He had been so desperate to find the one person he never could have, that he had traded his entire world for the slim hope of finding his godfather._

_He was alone and, for the first time since his 3__rd__ Year, Harry hated his godfather. Sirius had left him with one cold, chilling truth until the day he died:_

_Sirius had wished for a world without wizards._

FOUR MONTHS LATER…

Dean tapped the steering wheel nervously.

His baby, the black '67 Impala, was parked in the shadows cast between two streetlamps. Sam hadn't laid eyes on the car since he left, but the Impala was like an extension of Dean. He knew it would take all of two seconds before Sam figured out his elder brother was in the area.

Dean sighed. He should have stayed away. He shouldn't have taken a job in the same state as his younger brother. Hell, he shouldn't be doing a job in the same time zone as Sam's college. The impulse of a big brother had over come his common sense. When Sammy had gone to Kindergarten (all three schools), Dean had been with him. High Schools, he'd lost count of how many, had seen the pair of brothers arriving and leaving together.

It was wrong that Dean shouldn't be there for Sam's first day at Stanford University. It wasn't right. Dean had been as much as a parent, if not more so, than his father to Sam. Dean had earned the right to be there to see his brother's triumph.

So he'd come to make it right… even if Sam didn't know he wasn't on his own.

Dean had arrived in the cover of darkness and watched hordes of his little brother's fellow students unload their cars and fill their new dorm rooms. He was disappointed that Sam hadn't been one of the late arrivals, while simultaneously pleased that he wouldn't run the risk of being spotted. He'd depended on Sammy's anal-retentive nature to move himself into the dorm first thing in the morning.

Dean felt his nerves relax as a Led Zepplin tune began to play on the radio. There was nothing left to do, but wait it out until morning and Sammy's first day of classes. It wouldn't be the first time he'd spent the night in his car, though he wished it was going to be one of those nights he wouldn't be alone. He felt a smile tug at the edge of his lips as he remembered hot nights in the back seat and a warm body beneath him.

He shifted in his seat as his pants became tight, trying to give Big Dean his breathing room. He glanced out the window and at the side streets. This was a college town, there had to be a bar around here somewhere.

Surely there would be some hot young freshmen in it… _shit_. Sammy might be in one of those bars tonight, blowing off steam before the big day.

Dean pulled out the map of Central California he had purchased in town earlier that day. He began looking for city centers further outside the college territory. Along the sides of the map were printed business ads, enticing people to join in on hiking trails, science museums and more. There was a bar called _Two of a Kind _listed, and it was almost 40 miles outside Stanford, California. He doubted Sammy would be making an appearance so far from campus. From the sound of the name and the two Aces behind the name, Dean thought they might even have some poker action.

After a final moment of indecision he started the Impala and abandoned his safe hiding spot. He turned Zepplin up on the radio and settled in for his ride.

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Harry smiled warmly at the hotel employee across the counter.

"Reservation for Potter," Harry said.

The clerk, a middle-aged blond woman with a nametag that proclaimed she called Becky, returned his smile.

"One moment, sir," she replied, already tapping away at the keyboard. There was a small beep from the computer. "There we are, room for one?"

Harry tried to look reassuring, after all he was used to this response from hotel clerks. "My parents couldn't make the trip up. I'm on my own."

"Oh," Becky said. "We have a policy that anyone underage needs to be accompanied by an adult. I'm sorry, but I have to ask for identification."

Harry was already reaching for the fake ID he'd had made in New York almost a year ago. After all, he didn't exist in this world. He needed documentation to show he was actually who he said he was. He needed ID if he was going to have a car, apply for credit, get a home, get a job, or even go to college.

Of course he could always just use his magic for his own selfish purposes, but he rarely resorted to it. He felt Albus hovering behind his ear, whispering how to do so would be the start of becoming a Dark Lord.

Harry promptly told Albus to stuff it, and that until the old coot had slept hungry on the streets of London he wasn't allowed to talk about magical ethics. Harry had tried to find work normally, to find clothing, to find a shelter that would take him in. he had failed to do so.

He had been forced to resort to stealing clothes and food before he finally used his magic to his advantage. The world hadn't ended and Harry was fairly certain he wasn't going to go to hell for it.

Becky took the ID and compared the picture (non-moving) to Harry's features. She seemed surprised when she saw his age.

"You're looking at colleges?" she asked.

"I'm from abroad," he said vaguely "I had to retake a lot of classes to qualify for college. Took me awhile."

She looked apologetic and afraid that she had somehow been judging him for starting college so late. Most Americans started at 18 or 19; Harry was already 22 in this world.

"Have you thought about Stanford University at all?" she asked, honestly interested.

"I have actually," Harry confided, pulling the pamphlet on Stanford out of his duffel as proof. "I'm headed there for an interview tomorrow morning."

"My niece went there," Becky proudly informed him. "It's a wonderful school."

Harry nodded in agreement. He had made a list of things he wanted in a school, largely a list of things he hadn't enjoyed about Hogwarts. He wanted to go someplace warm, where he could change the color of his skin to something besides pale. He wanted a good school where he would have to work and had a good reputation. He also wanted someplace big. Hogwarts only held a few hundred students, and he'd known them all. In the war, he'd even killed some classmates.

Oh, yeah, he wanted someplace with too many faces to care about any in particular.

Stanford had made the list, but he wasn't overly excited about it. Stanford had an excellent education system and it had taken the last four months of Harry pretending to be in "summer school" to catch up on his Muggle education. Hogwarts had done a surprising amount to keep their students up to par with the Muggle world, but they could have done more.

"Alright, Mr. Potter," Becky said, interrupting his thoughts, "everything seems to be in order. Here is your ID back, your room key, and a copy of your reservation."

Harry accepted the packet back gladly.

"The elevators are just over there."

Harry walked down the hallway, glancing at the items as he put them away in his duffel. He paused in the elevator to study his ID. He'd considered changing his name, had even purchased a book on names and their meanings.

He run through all the possible options: James Evans, Evan James, Evan Lillian, James Potter, Sirius Potter, Evan Black, James Black, and so on and so on.

In the end, he just couldn't justify a name change to himself. If he were in the same world as before than he might have considered it, but this world was new. Here he could be the same as before but with the anonymity he so desperately desired.

Plus, he wanted Sirius to be able to track him down… if his godfather even decided to.

Harry, whether it was rational or not, felt a little hurt by Sirius' choice of worlds. He knew his godfather hadn't meant to, but it was slightly personal that Sirius hadn't chosen a world where Harry existed much like he was. Sirius hadn't even chosen a world at all similar to their old one.

If Harry had truly thought about it, he should have chosen a world where Voldemort never existed and his family had all lived.

Somewhere in that guilt and anger Harry had placed the blame on Sirius and would not seek him out. Instead, Harry was determined to start over.

And what better place than at college?

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_**"Two of a Kind" Bar**_

Dean had always known that Sam had gotten the brains in the family. Dean didn't really find that much to be jealous about on that front when they were younger, but every now and then he wished it had been him with the brains.

This was definitely one of those times.

The out of the way bar he'd found, _Two of a Kind_, was far from what he'd thought it would be. He'd been looking forward to getting a stiff drink, listening to some rock music, and playing some cards with strangers too stupid to win.

He had _not_ expected to walk into a gay bar.

Not that Dean had any problems with that sort of thing. For a hunter, Dean felt he was pretty tolerant about such things. To be fair, those who slay the supernatural find the idea of homosexuality pretty minimal in terms of offensiveness. Hell, he'd even experimented a little after Sammy had left. His father had intensified his search for the Yellow-Eyed-Demon, and had Dean running his own hunts.

There had been a particularly grateful young gay man in Phoenix that had been relieved to have his home become ghost-free. The guy was hot (for another male) and Dean was only human… and, sure, maybe a little wasted at the time.

Dean shook his head and debated looking for a new place, but damn if he wasn't tired of driving. Plus, he could use his charm to get a drink from a dude just as easily as a chick at any other bar. Yes, he was that handsome.

He spotted an empty chair at the bar, looked at the comfortable leather backing, and his choice was made that much simpler.

Dean sighed as he embraced the comfort of his chair.

"What can I get you?" asked the blond bartender with tight white jeans, and an even tighter red shirt. His name, Christian, was written in black lettering over a pair of diamond aces.

Dean ordered his bourbon and slipped the bill to the bartender.

Having neglected to do so when he came in, he let his father's training take over. He surreptitiously took in the bar around him, checking for warning signs of threats from the other patrons. He spotted a few bulges in coat pockets that he assumed were guns, and other bulges in pants that he pretended were actual weapons. He spotted a pair of brunettes in short dresses at a table by the fire exit.

He could practically hear his father's voice in his mind, "Always know your exits."

Dean smiled to himself at his own defiance of sitting at the bar, not protecting his back. As surprised as he was at the true nature of the bar, he was quickly becoming comfortable there. The music was to his taste, though he would have preferred less Bowie, and the service was fast.

He felt a boost to his ego, as he realized he was getting better service than the other patrons because of his good looks. Dean liked being appreciated. Hunting had given him a good body, and it deserved some recognition.

As the night wore on, his body was also starting to crave more of a _physical _appreciation of his body.

He'd never really done more with another guy after that one time in Phoenix, but mostly because of a lack of opportunity. Even then, it had been largely one sided and he'd only gotten a blowjob. _A truly exceptional blowjob_, Dean mentally corrected.

He shifted in his seat again, feeling Big Dean come alive.

Dean began checking out the customers still left in the bar. The brunettes by the exit were still there, and he was tempted to give up his opportunity for further experimentation at the prospect of a threesome. He wondered briefly if perhaps one of the ladies was not actually a lady. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about that.

At the bar, just a few stools away, was a well-built redhead. It looked as if he was chatting up the blond next to him though. As one o'clock rolled around, the youthful bartender had been replaced by a burly guy with salt and pepper hair and a massive beard. That was definitely a no-go.

He was surprised to see a group of college kids in a far corner, and immediately began looking for Sam. His heart began beating faster at the thought of getting caught by his younger brother as he tried to pick up a guy. Enjoying some experimentation was one thing, but he wasn't planning on coming out or anything. The group was sitting by the entrance to the hallway that housed the restrooms, and suddenly Big Dean was stirring for a different reason.

He tipped the new bartender, coincidentally named Bobby, and headed for the men's room.

He made a second sweep of the college kids in the booth, just to ensure that Sammy wasn't with them. He didn't see any potential playmates there either. He sighed but the urge to pee was beginning to overpower him.

Dean had seen worse bathrooms on his hunts.

As he washed his hands he heard a commotion from outside the bathroom. Instinctively he checked his inner jacket for his gun, but hadn't wanted to risk bringing it into the crowded bar. He hadn't left his silver knife in the car though. He slipped it up his sleeve and left the bathroom.

"Seriously, where is the _real_ music?" demanded an accented voice from beyond the hallway.

Dean felt his heart relax as he realized the commotion was just someone making a fuss about the music. Not that he disagreed with the argument.

He liked the accent too.

He peered around the corner as casually as he could, making his way back to his stool. He liked what he saw, too; straight black hair, a slim but muscled frame, tight clothing revealing a truly remarkable ass, and a pearly white smile.

"I mean, _come on_," continued the distinctive voice, "where is the Zepplin?"

_Bingo_.

Dean waved a hand at Bobby the Bartender.

"Who's the music junkie?" Dean asked Bobby, having successfully flagged him down.

"Never seen him before," answered Bobby the Bartender, in his gruff voice, "probably a _tourist_."

Dean heard the slight insult intended with the word tourist, and figured Bobby the Bartender was including him in the statement. He ignored the impulse to bark something rude in return at the larger man.

Dean would just have to settle for bossing Bobby the Bartender around.

"How about you send him something from me?" Dean asked, sliding a bill across the counter.

Bobby the Bartender glared at the offered bill, before swiping it off the counter and turning to the drinks beyond. Dean settled back into his seat and watched the waitress bring the drink to the jukebox, where the accented stranger was still searching for something worth his while.

Dean felt pretty confident that he'd find something worthwhile in a few minutes, even if it wasn't music.

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Harry turned to the waitress, a confused look crowding his handsome features.

"I didn't order any drinks, Miss,"

Harry could tell by the surprised look on her face that the waitress wasn't used to being treated with much respect. She seemed to like it.

"This is from the hunk in leather at the bar," she said, holding out the drink to him.

Harry felt his face flush and then flame with heat. He hadn't anticipated anything exciting happening the night before his interview. He'd wanted to cut loose so he'd found a bar online that was a distance from the university. No point in getting drunk in front of anyone that could be involved with Stanford. Knowing Harry's luck he'd puke on the shoes of the person giving him his interview.

Harry stared at the drink he'd been sent. So far, in this world, he hadn't been hit on. His only romantic entanglements had been during his final year at Hogwarts and during the war. He took the glass, trying to keep his hand from shaking. As embarrassed as he was, he experienced a new feeling: giddiness.

This is why he had chosen to go to college. The rush of joy at being recognized for being himself and not the all-powerful hero of the Wizarding world was delightful. He knew that this "leather man" hadn't been interested in sleeping with anyone but the man he saw at the Jukebox. Harry couldn't say that about anyone from his old world; they only saw their hero.

He checked out his new friend at the bar as the waitress walked away. Harry's gaze raked over the handsomely rugged features of the man. He wasn't dressed for a night out on the town, which Harry appreciated. He didn't want to talk to some pretty boy all night. Seeing the build on the man, Harry found that talking was the last thing he wanted to do all night with the stranger.

He was suddenly aware that he should do something with the proffered glass, and stupidly downed the entire glass. Harry recognized the burning of Jack Daniels down his throat, and used all of his Occlumency skills to not let his discomfort show. He wasn't used to all the hard liquor, let alone in such large quantities.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

Dean had seen the younger man flush with embarrassment and found it… cute. At first he thought his gift was going to be turned down, but then he spotted the nervousness his prey was showing.

Dean felt his odds of getting with a freshman might be increasing by the second.

He gulped as he saw the younger man drain the glass in one go. Dean felt as if he'd never seen anything so hot in his whole life.

He patted the seat next to him, before realizing how eagerly he was doing it. Dean tried to relax and return to the zen of his playboy existence. He was the experienced one here, he shouldn't be acting like a teenager just because the guy was hot.

Dean pulled himself out of his daze as the stranger approached him.

"Thanks for the drink…"

"Dean," he said, filling the space appropriately.

"Harry," said the younger man, settling into the stool next to him.

"I hear you like Zepplin," Dean said, starting their conversational ball rolling.

Harry's face reddened slightly, "I didn't mean to be so loud… or rude. It's a bar, you know? They should have the basics."

"Absolutely," said Dean, nodding in agreement. "So you think Zepplin is basic?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Harry amended, verbally reversing. "I just think it's a basic requirement for any public space, really."

"So you like good music and you drink like a champ," Dean summarized, smirking. "What else can I guy ask for?"

Harry was getting tired of blushing, but he was enjoying the giddiness of being hit on.

"Look," said Harry, wishing he didn't sound like such a girl, "I appreciate the drink, really I do. And you're hot, like ridiculously hot."

"But?" asked Dean.

"But I'm not used to all this," Harry explained, gesturing to the bar around them. "I'm not used to getting hit on or anything, and I'm just starting… school. And I'm kind of nervous and I think if you say one more flattering thing to me my face is going to light on fire. So would you mind just… just chatting for a while?"

Dean relaxed visibly. He had been afraid that Harry was going to turn him down. He was also pleased that he had chosen to hit on someone who was as equally new to, as he put it, "all this".

Dean found himself liking Harry even more than before.

"Sure," Dean said, smiling at him.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "How about I get you a drink this time?"

Oh yeah, Dean was really starting to like Harry.

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As soon as they were out of the bar, Dean's muscled arm slipped around Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled in thanks at the warmth it added to the unusually cool night.

"Where's your car?"

Dean smiled proudly at him, and nodded his head at the Impala.

Harry grinned when he saw it. "It suits you."

Before Dean could figure out what he meant by that statement, he felt Harry's lips on his own. He could taste the liquor in his mouth and on the tongue that suddenly filled his own.

He wasn't used to kissing someone who was just as aggressive as he was.

"I don't think I can wait for the hotel room," Harry muttered against his lips.

"You okay with the back seat?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Perfect."

Dean unlocked the car and held the backdoor open for Harry, saying, "Ladies first."

He and Harry both stopped in their tracks at the odd comment.

"Sorry," Dean apologized with a shrug of his shoulders, "habit."

"You weren't kidding about the whole experimentation thing, were you?" asked Harry.

Over the last two hours, Dean and Harry had opened up to one another. At least they had opened up as much as a Hunter who didn't want his brother to know he was in town, and a wizard looking at "normal" colleges could open up. Harry had been forced to lie to Dean and make him believe he was a freshman, rather than just applying. He didn't want Dean to think he was too young to mingle with. Dean, after several more drinks, had gone into detail about his reputation as a ladies man, something Harry assured him he richly deserved. Harry couldn't deny that he was getting excited as he listened to Dean's stories of sexual escapades. Dean liked having Harry to talk to; he'd missed having another guy to talk with since Sam had left to strike out on his own.

Sammy was the only topic Dean didn't talk to Harry about.

"Is it a problem?" Dean asked, hiding his anxiety.

"No," said Harry, grinning.

Dean punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Get in there, Dick."

"Exactly."

Dean took a moment to register the dirty innuendo before climbing into the backseat after him.

**(A/N: This is the beginning of the extreme SLASH portion of the chapter. If this material offends you, simply skip this section of the chapter and jump to the next in-text Author's Note.)**

Without saying a word, Harry's hand began to travel slowly up Dean's thigh. He massaged Big Dean through his pants, making him moan. Not to be undone, Dean worked Harry's shirt up and off of him, teasing the younger man's flesh with his tongue. Dean made sure that not a single exposed piece of skin went untouched. Finally, Dean popped the button on Harry's fly and undid the zipper.

He reached into Harry's boxers and pulled out his dick, stroking it nice and steady. Harry started grinding backwards into the Impala's seat buckle. The older man groaned breathily in Harry's ear, but never stopped stroking.

"Want to grind against something else?" he asked Harry.

Harry nodded wordlessly. Like the master of the backseat that he was, Dean led Harry through a series of maneuvers that left them lying on top of each other. Harry wrapped his legs around Dean's waist, and sat up to completely reveal Big Dean.

"Now I know why you call it Big Dean," he said with a laugh, stroking said nicknamed body part.

Harry's other hand dove under Dean's shirt and began exploring. He pushed the T-shirt up higher, prompting Dean to raise his arms and allow the garment to be pulled off over his head. Both of Harry's hands began roaming more freely now, over his stomach and the light dusting of hair that led into his boxers, and over his erect nipples.

"God, you look amazing," Dean complimented him.

"You _feel _amazing," replied Harry.

Harry tried to toe off his sneakers and socks, but couldn't quite get them to co-operate.

"Let me," Dean offered. He slid himself backwards to reach his feet, and began removing the offending items. Once done with the shoes and socks, Dean began tugging on the ends of Harry's jeans. Harry lifted his hips so Dean could push his jeans and boxers down.

"Now you," ordered Harry.

Dean leaned up out of his crouched position, his head lightly connecting with the roof of the car, and slid his jeans straight down. Harry bent forward to help him ease the jeans down his hips.

Dean heard Harry mutter something about him and "sexy". He thought Harry was leaning down to push the jeans the rest of the way off, but then he felt Harry kiss Big Dean. His entire body shuddered, and felt a keening noise erupt from within him.

His hips automatically leaned forward. Harry needed no further prompting and was soon engulfing as much of Big Dean as possible. Dean's stomach filled and deflated rapidly as he breathed and exhaled deeply.

A hand reached out to his balls and began to cup them, then massage them between able fingers.

"Oh, God."

Harry's head rose and Dean saw the concern there.

"Is it, is it okay?"

Dean felt himself go incredulous at the insecurity in his lover's face. He leaned forward and began to suck on Harry's tongue.

"It's perfect," he assured him.

Harry smiled gratefully before leaning down to continue his task. Dean put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"It's _too_ perfect," Dean clarified. "Any more and I'm going to be shooting like a teenager."

Harry kissed him soundly. "Do you want to fuck me, then?"

Dean nodded instantly.

Harry laid himself out along the backseat as Dean climbed into the front seat.

"Dean?"

Dean through him a reassuring look, before replying "Just getting a condom, Harry."

Harry whispered the lubrication spell as quietly as he could, not wanting his Muggle partner to hear him. Luckily for him, Dean was too enraptured in the search for the illusive condom in the glove box otherwise Dean might have grabbed the revolver from the glove box instead.

"Got it!"

Harry laughed breathlessly at the pride in Dean's voice. Dean climbed into the backseat, a string of condom wrappers dangling in his hand.

"Ambitious much?" Harry teased.

Dean nibbled his ear in response, yelping when Big Dean slid along Harry's passage. He raised his eyebrows in silent question.

"I'm prepared," Harry quipped.

"So I see."

Dean leaned forward again, claiming Harry's mouth with his own. Dean's smell was all around him, on the seats, and especially from the well built man writhing over him. Dean began grinding his pulsing erection against Harry's. An uncontrollable and overwhelming surge of erotic bliss coursed through him, leading him to…

"Oh God, stop!" Dean cried out.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked anxiously.

"We have to slow down," Dean warned him. "It's too much. I don't want to finish so early."

Harry nodded in compliance.

"Besides," Dean continued, the look of sly seduction returning to him. "Tonight's about experimenting right?"

Harry's eyebrows crossed in confusion.

In answer to the unspoken question Dean began kissing a trail down Harry's toned chest and abdominals. Harry wanted to ask if Dean was sure, to guarantee he wasn't pressuring him or anything. Dean had told him that the furthest he'd ever gone with another man was being on the receiving end of a blowjob. Now Dean was going to do that to him?

"Are you sure?"

In answer, Dean took a hesitantly slow lick of the head of Harry's penis. It didn't seem to deter him any, as Dean then swallowed all of Harry. As inexperienced as Dean was, Harry still felt the pleasure of being sucked.

Dean was paying the price for his inexperience, and he choked slightly. He took things slower the second time, only taking half the shaft and working from there. He remembered to sheath his teeth and set up a steady rhythm, letting Harry's slight thrusts fill his mouth.

Harry ran his arms over the tip of Dean's solid pecs, the sides of his rippling abs, around his firm arms, and gripped hard shoulders. He couldn't get over how amazingly fit the man was. Whoever ended up with Dean was the luckiest man in the world; and right now it was him. Not that he was complaining.

Not in the slightest.

Eventually Dean returned his mouth to Harry's. They kissed and the stroked each other for a few minutes before words returned to Dean.

"So how do we…" Dean trailed off.

"Get you inside me?"

Dean nodded.

"Start with a finger," Harry instructed. Dean trailed his fingers down the length of Harry's body. He stopped to fondle the younger man before finding the entrance he was looking for.

He watched Harry's pleasure as he moved from one finger to two, then to slight discomfort when three fingers stretched him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked Harry.

Harry shrugged indifferently, trying to reassure him. "Less than the pleasure, and eventually that's all that there is. I want this, Dean. I want you."

His fingers circled Big Dean's figure. "I'm pretty sure you want it, too."

"What gave me away?" Dean asked, smirk firmly in place.

Dean tore the wrapper off the condom and rolled it down his length. He pulled Harry towards him, and Harry laid a leg on each of his shoulders. Dean kissed each of his calves.

Harry moaned. Dean positioned himself where he thought Harry's hole would be. He pushed and gasped as he slowly entered him. He watched as Harry's eyes bulged and his mouth opened slightly. Dean pushed himself further into Harry, who was huffing and puffing beneath him.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked nervously. If Harry said no, he wasn't sure he could give up the amazing tightness and heat that surrounded him.

In answer Harry flexed his cheeks, and impaled himself further onto Big Dean.

"Keep going."

Dean was nothing, if not obedient. Dean pulled almost all the way back out and thrust back in, less slowly than the first time. He waited a moment to see how Harry responded. Seeing Harry's look of rapture, Dean decided it best to repeat the motion. He began getting a good rhythm going. Once he was confident with the motion of it, he remembered how this sometimes worked with some women. With an odd curiosity he wondered if the same idea could be applied to another man. Dean shifted his position so he was thrusting at a slightly different angle into Harry.

Giving into the curiosity he drew back all the way, and with one strong thrust –

"Ah!" Harry exclaimed.

"What!?" Dean demanded, immediately withdrawing from Harry. "What is it? Did I hurt you? What's wrong?"

Harry didn't waste a moment. He followed Dean's retreat and sat up with him. He straddled both sides of him.

"You just found the magic spot, Dean," Harry clarified. "Now find it again."

"Are you sure?"

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing Big Dean and positioning it beneath him.

Dean gasped as he felt Harry impale himself onto him, sheathing himself inside him.

Dean leaned his forehead against Harry's. The two began to kiss as Dean thrust upwards and Harry rocked on top of him. Dean knew the moment he found "the spot" again, as Harry bit Dean's lip at the contact.

Dean found himself inexplicably turned on by the coppery taste of his own blood. Harry sucked on the wound, and then shared his prize with Dean.

Dean pushed in and out, trying his best to hit his lover's prostate again. From the sounds Harry was making on top of him, and the look on his face, Dean knew his mission was accomplished.

"You feel so – unh – amazing."

"So do you," Harry told him. "You feel go-good."

He held Harry firmly and nibbled the sensitive spot he'd discovered on Harry's neck. Harry gasped. He could feel his orgasm mounting already, but he wanted to keep going. It felt so wonderful. A few more thrusts and Harry knew he'd be done for.

"Dean, I'm gonna shoot soon," Harry warned him.

Dean moaned in response.

Dean grabbed Harry's dick and started jacking him off feverishly. He heard Harry cry out, and then his fist was filling with warm, sticky liquid.

Dean buried himself inside Harry, and kissed him hard enough to break open his cut lip again. Moments later he came, harder even than Harry had. Harry had sensed the tension with Dean, and began to rise and fall on top of Dean faster than ever.

Dean wasn't sure what came next, but Harry seemed content to just keep kissing him.

Dean felt Harry pull away from his lips and cringed at the whining need in his voice as he asked, "What's wrong?"

Harry smiled at him in return, "Nothing. Just wondering how you enjoyed yourself."

Dean grinned, "I was a little faster than usual, but I'll put the blame on you for that."

Harry couldn't help but grin back as he said, "That was only round one, Dean. We've got the whole night."

Dean decided he could get used to experimenting with Harry.

**(A/N: This is the end of the extreme SLASH portion of the chapter.)**

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

When Dean woke, the sun had already risen. He was sitting with his back half against the door, and half against the leather seating. His legs were cramped as they were surrounding either side of Harry, who was curled against his chest. The pair was naked except for Dean's jacket that was draped around their fronts.

Dean felt Big Dean stir at the memory of what had transpired just hours before. He realized that the sticky mess of before had disappeared, and that Harry must have cleaned them both before falling asleep.

It had been a long time since Dean had chosen to wake up with someone. Usually Dean was more of the "wham, bam, thank you, Mam" persuasion than the cuddly type. There was just something about Harry he found unforgettable. It was like losing your virginity; everyone feels emotional and clingy after.

Dean wondered briefly if he would bring himself to hang around with Harry more. He had a vision of picking him up after classes and bringing him back to some seedy motel room to bang his lights out between hunts.

Then he remembered… today was the first day of classes. Sammy.

He sat up, startled, unknowingly waking Harry.

"Dean?"

Dean began throwing on clothes hastily. "Sorry, Harry, I just have an appointment in Santa Clara this morning."

"Oh, right."

Dean stopped himself from cringing at the disappointed tone in Harry's voice. He was being an ass, and he knew it. He stopped dressing long enough to give Harry a proper kiss and a smile.

Harry looked considerably happier after that.

"So where can I drop you?" Dean asked. Harry had told him his friends had driven him the night before. He had planned to catch a ride home with Dean.

"My school's just in Santa Clara County, actually," Harry said brightly.

Dean felt a weight in his stomach at the news. Life was a bitch sometimes.

"Oh?" he asked, feigning indifference, "which one?"

"Stanford U" Harry responded, tugging on more clothes.

Dean got out of the car and then re-entered into the driver's seat. Harry frowned, but then finished getting dressed and stepped into the front passenger seat.

"Is that too far from you?" Harry asked.

"Close enough," Dean responded. He felt himself shutting down, his daydream of experimenting further with Harry being shot to hell. Harry went to school with Sam. If they ran across each other…

But then again, it was a big campus. The chances they'd even start a conversation together were seriously slim… maybe there was some hope after all. Dean's spirits brightened considerably, and the pair chatted as Harry guided him back to his dormitory.

When they got closer, and Stanford University loomed in front of them, Dean felt he should acknowledge his appreciation for Harry and their night together.

"I just wanted to say…" Dean started. "I just wanted to say thank you. For last night, I mean."

Harry looked at Dean fondly, "Anytime."

Dean found himself smiling back. He reached a finger out to stroke along Harry's chin. Harry's smile turned positively radiant.

As soon as Harry recognized the campus of Stanford University, he selected a building with students milling about at random

"Oh," said Harry suddenly, pointing out the window, "this is me."

Dean glanced around at the building structures around him. He mentally calculated the difference between Harry's dorm and Sam's and was pleased that they were at opposite ends of campus. Dean pulled into an open spot outside the building.

Harry was looking at him expectantly.

"Well, I guess, I better go."

Dean's emotions began their usual toss and tumble dance of turmoil. He had enjoyed his time with Harry, more than he had expected to. It had been nice to have a friend that he could talk to, someone who looked at him admiringly. Plus, the next time he came to check up on Sam he'd have a place to stay… maybe.

But then again, Harry might share classes with Sam. They might date the same girl… okay, maybe that wouldn't happen. But there were tons of other events that could take place that would lead them to meeting. If they became friends, then one little name drop would be all it took before their world went crashing down.

He realized he was taking too much time to think things through as Harry was already climbing out of the car. Dean tried to convince himself he hadn't see the flash of pain and disappointment that clouded Harry's face.

"Ah, shit," Dean said angrily, before climbing out of the car and following Harry down the sidewalk.

Harry turned and stopped when he realized Dean had followed him.

"Did I forget something?" he asked, avoiding eye contact with Dean.

Dean eyed the early morning crowd around him and decided he couldn't risk that Sam wasn't among them. He pulled Harry into the alley next to the building and leaned him against a wall.

Harry began eying him nervously. Dean kissed him once, and very briefly.

"I just wanted to say good-bye properly."

Dean pulled back but kept an arm around Harry's waist, the kid was just so damn warm.

"I thought, I thought you were regretting last night or something."

Dean cursed himself for making Harry look so insecure. Dean was a dog, but he never tried to make anyone feel used afterwards. Granted, he never stayed around long enough to see how they felt about it.

Harry pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Dean.

Dean saw the 10 digit number scribbled across it. He palmed it into his pocket.

"I know you only want one night long relationships, Dean," Harry said, much to Dean's displeasure, "but this is only if your in the area. I'm not opposed to dating, but I don't think that's your style."

"You're right, it's not," Dean said, passing the paper back to Harry. Harry merely folded Dean's open hand into a fist and pushed the offending limb back at him.

"Keep it," Harry said. "Just in case."

Then Harry was past Dean, down the street, and into his building.

Dean's first instinct was to toss the number immediately, but as he extended his hand to drop it he found he couldn't do it. Instead he put the number in his breast pocket, determined to put it out of his mind and refocus on being there for Sam's first day.

As Dean climbed into the Impala, he sent out a silent plea that Harry and Sam never cross paths.

As Harry apparated to his interview appointment, he decided that maybe Stanford University wouldn't be such a bad place to go to school after all.

**Author's Note:** The sex scene is probably the most intense one in the entire story, but it needed to be done. It was also the first one I've ever written so let me know what you thought. This chapter was massive! At 7,000 words it was longer than the previous two combined. Crazy!!! I felt bad that Sam and Dean weren't present in the prologue or chapter 1, so I decided to let my Dean narrative go a little crazy lol.

I hope this chapter answered a lot of questions from reviewers. Namely, that Sirius won't be around for a bit, and that Harry and Dean are interested in one another.

The next few chapters will focus on the Stanford years, specifically Sam and Harry becoming friends. They will also focus on Dean and Harry's "relationship" that develops.

_Don't forget to REVIEW!!!_


	4. Me TarSam, You Jane

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

**Genre:** Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major **SLASH** themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry (except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1). All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** Sorry about taking so long to update. I wanted to do the rest of this story for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) so I had to wait for November 1st to roll around to start writing again. Hopefully, this means there will be a new chapter every couple of days :) **Be sure to read the Author's Note at the end of the chapter as well.**

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 3:**

"**Me Tar-Sam, You Jane"**

"Ain't looking for no one,  
You walk into my life.  
Well I ain't no hopeless romantic,  
I've gotta listen to my cautious heart."

- Foreigner, _Hole in My Soul_

PREVIOUSLY…

_Dean's first instinct was to toss the number immediately, but as he extended his hand to drop it he found he couldn't do it. Instead he put the number in his breast pocket, determined to put it out of his mind and refocus on Sam's first day._

_As Dean climbed into the Impala, he sent out a silent plea that Harry and Sam never cross paths._

_As Harry apparated to his interview appointment, he decided that maybe Stanford University wouldn't be such a bad place to go to school after all._

OCTOBER, ONE YEAR LATER…

"Dude, stop that."

Harry smirked at the reflection of his friend in the wall length mirror before rolling his eyes. He lifted the weight, watched his bicep flex into a tight ball, before slowly extending the weight until his arm was straight.

"You get to check out hot girls all the time, Sam. Aren't I allowed to check out guys that _I_ think are hot?" Harry asked in his most reasonable voice.

"But you're not just checking out some random guy, Harry," Sam explained, setting down the weight he had been using to curl his already impressive biceps, "you're checking out _me_."

Harry didn't even try to deny it. "So you know it's meant as a compliment."

"I'm your best friend, not a piece of meat."

"I happen to know you're both my best friend _and_ a very fine piece of meat."

"Very funny," Sam responded wryly.

"Oh, come on," Harry said, switching to triceps, "why build a body like that if you don't want people to appreciate it? Better yet, worship it?"

Sam sighed and shook his head, knowing how useless it was to deny Harry his antics. Besides, how was Harry supposed to understand that hunters who weren't in peak physical condition didn't survive long?

"Fine, fine."

Harry cranked out another set before placing his own weights down.

"What now?" Harry asked, following his friend away from the wall of mirrors that housed the weights used for working on arm strength.

"Stomach curls?" Sam suggested.

Harry's look of disgust had Sam doubling over in laughter. Sam knew that Harry had always been jealous of his own rock solid abs.

"It's not fair," Harry whined. "You eat everything in sight, barely work on those things, and yet every morning I have to watch you march out of the showers with them perfectly defined."

"What can I say?" Sam asked, the picture of innocence. "I'm just special that way."

"That's it, we're definitely sparring today."

Sam held back a groan at Harry's declaration. Sam had never met anyone, including his father and Dean, who could fight like Harry could. It wasn't Harry's speed, his flexibility, his knowledge of weapons, or his quick thinking that made Harry such a difficult opponent for Sam. It was how damn hard he could throw a punch. Harry knew just how to use his body to put force behind every blow he landed. Some days Harry gave Sam more bruises than when he had been hunting with his family.

Sam rubbed his shoulders unconsciously. "I just got rid of the bruises from last time."

"Don't lie, Sam," Harry chided, a grin on his face, "I know some of those were from Jess."

Sam blushed.

"You're too easy, Sam."

"So I don't like talking about my sex life," Sam defended. "Most of us don't."

"So you and Jess are having sex?"

"Shut up, Harry. Not all of us care about flinging themselves at random people at bars."

Harry took the dig with pride. He liked how much he had matured since his past life. At Hogwarts he had never felt comfortable joking with his dorm mates about their sexual activities. Then again, Ron, Hermione and Neville were the only ones he ever came out to at school. He had never felt free to joke with Seamus about what a nice ass Anthony Goldstein had. At Stanford everything was different, everyone knew and no one treated him any differently for it.

"Don't say it like that, it makes me sound so promiscuous."

"You aren't?"

"No!"

"Says the guy who hooked up at a bar when he was college hunting."

This time it was Harry who blushed. "That was different."

"How?" Sam asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Harry looked around them to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "That's the only time I've gone all the way since coming to Stanford."

Sam blushed at the admission.

"Let's just spar, okay?" Harry asked, "We look like girls just standing here blushing."

Sam nodded his agreement and let Harry lead the way to the wrestling room. Stanford University had an impressive fitness center, but no room was more welcoming to the fighting prone students than the practice room for the wrestling team. With a floor covered entirely by mats and three walls with unbreakable glass, it was the perfect room for sparring. Students were free to get rough, and the room's windows were ideal to gather spectators.

"Weapons?"

"Why not? At least you won't hit me so hard."

"We'll see."

Harry walked to the floor to ceiling cabinet in the far corner of the room. He opened the double doors to reveal a large array of sparring equipment. Sam cleared his throat pointedly as Harry reached for two large wooden poles.

"Be kind, Harry."

Harry shrugged and instead reached for what looked like two baseball bats with padding covering each of the thick ends. One was blue with white stripes, the other red with white stripes. He twirled one in each hand, switched them, and then settled on the red and white one. Harry wondered if it was more than coincidence that he would be fighting with Gryffindor red.

He tossed the Hufflepuff blue baton to Sam, who caught the weapon easily. Sam, his competitive edge taking over, swung the baton in an "X" motion in front of him. His powerful arms creating noise as the baton pushed through the air.

Harry had long ago decided that Sam would have been an excellent beater.

Sam swung first; hard enough that Harry could see this was going to be a short match. Sam was exerting all of his energy into his blows, forcing Harry to do the same as he defended. The match would be determined by force and stamina.

It felt like an explosion each time Sam's baton collided with Harry's red one. It was all Harry could do to keep the weapon in his hand.

Sick of being on the defensive, Harry let Sam charge him at full force. Instead of accepting the blow, Harry dodged lower to the ground and brought his baton up against Sam's stomach. If not for Sam's abs, the wind would have been knocked out of him.

Harry didn't stop there. He quickly pivoted on his right foot and spun. As his body turned, he brought the baton around with him gaining momentum and releasing it against Sam's upper back. Harry's foot connected against the back of Sam's calf. The combination sent his friend tumbling to the ground.

Sam rolled to avoid the follow up attack that Harry had planned. As he came back up he managed to pop Harry in the face with the tip of the baton. At the same moment Harry took out Sam's knee, sweeping him completely off balance this time.

Equally diminished, the boys circled away from each other before the next attack.

"This is going too quickly," Harry complained, rubbing his jaw with his free hand.

"Are you suggesting something, or just wasting time?" Sam teased.

"It's not my fault. You're the one who went all out in the first swing."

"Yeah, so I didn't want a long beating before my date night with Jess."

"Oh, right. You have anything interesting planned?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, I'm on duty tonight. Jess is pissed cause she wanted to go to that frat party."

"The Halloween one?" Harry asked, disapproval evident in his voice. Sam couldn't agree more. Once you've seen the supernatural, one just can't see Halloween as a good idea.

"Yeah, I promised her I'd go."

"How are you going to do that if you're on duty?"

"Obviously, I'm going to have to break our plans," Sam said, changing directions. "I can't do both, and I need the money. I can't afford to get fired."

"That sucks."

"It's for the best though… Jess bought us a couples outfit."

Harry stopped pacing so he could laugh. "A couples outfit as what?"

Sam blushed.

"Oh God," Harry said, "What is it? You've got to tell me!"

Sam swung at Harry's head, trying to catch him off guard. Harry saw the move coming and blocked it effortlessly. He used his free hand to grab Sam's armed one and twisted. He almost managed to work Sam into a headlock before Sam's very pointed elbow rushed at him. Harry was forced to either win the match or let the incoming elbow break his nose.

He released Sam's arm and pushed him away.

"Tell you what," Harry offered, twirling the weapon, "if you win, I'll cover your shift at the dorm."

"Really?"

Harry shrugged, "Sure, why not? They like me better anyway."

Sam nodded at the truth of Harry's words. Harry had become his most popular resident ever since his uncanny ability to fix things became well known. People who had problems getting their thermostats to work went to Harry before calling Plant Operations. Television on the fritz, just call Harry. Door jammed, knock on that Potter kids door.

Sam juggled his baton, weighing his options. "And if you win, Harry?"

Harry smirked, "I'll still cover your shift, but you have to go to the party… in costume."

"And?" Sam asked, knowing better than to think that it was ever that simple, or generous, when it came to betting with Harry.

"And I get to take pictures, to publish as I see fit."

Sam weighed his options. He won either way, really. If Harry beat him, then he'd just work alone on Halloween and Harry would keep Jess company at the party. If he beat Harry, he'd have to go with Jess in the costume she'd picked, and hope that Harry would not torture him too much.

"I don't get it," he confessed, "you lose either way. Why make the bet?"

Harry shrugged. "What are friends for?"

Sam had the sudden feeling he was being led into a trap by his nose, but he couldn't see it. At least not yet.

"It's Halloween," Sam warned.

Harry gave him a look that clearly said _No duh_.

"I'm just saying that people like to prank the RA's this time of year. You think you can handle it?"

Harry swung, Sam blocked. Again and again, faster and faster.

"Okay, okay," Sam said, almost out of breath. "I get it, you can handle yourself. I know that."

"Glad to hear it."

"But you wouldn't be able to hit the students… unfortunately."

Harry grinned. In the past, students had tried to mess with Sam in his position as an RA. Harry hadn't needed to use physical force to retaliate against them on his friend's behalf. After all, he was the son of a Marauder; he knew other ways of punishing rebellious students.

Sam took in the fire behind Harry's eyes. "Alright, then… deal."

It was over in less than a second. Harry moved faster than Sam had ever seen him move before, almost supernaturally fast. Nevertheless, all Sam saw was a burst of red coming his way before darkness consumed him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

Dean slammed the impala door as hard as he could, taking out the full brunt of his frustration on the car.

"I'm sorry, baby," Dean apologized to the vehicle, patting it lovingly, "you know it's not you I'm mad at."

Every time John and Dean took on a hunt in California their trip ended in fighting. They both knew it was the tension of being too close to Sammy. Even if he wasn't physically present, Sam was a strong reminder of the problems they shared. He was the missing piece, and yet the memento of discourse that just wouldn't go away.

It was even harder now that they were just two counties away from Stanford University. John was completely on edge, and Dean rounded every corner with the hope of running into his little brother.

Even worse, the only chances Dean had gotten to return to California over the past year his father had accompanied him. Only once had those trips included a stop at Stanford to see Sam. The other two had been to stop by a certain gay bar to find a specific client with beautiful green eyes and jet-black hair. All of the visits wasted by his father's overbearing presence.

It was as if John was afraid that Dean would be infected by the same urge to leave that Sam had. No, any time Dean was working in the west, John Winchester was just around the corner ready to lend his eldest son a hand.

Dean was fucking sick of it. He could handle himself. Where was his father when they were teenagers? John had certainly had enough faith in Dean to take care of the family then.

Unfortunately for the pair of them, they were too much alike. They wouldn't talk about their issues which left them just one option: fighting and drinking, and not always in that order.

Tonight the fighting had been strong, and Dean just wanted to start the drinking already. His father was probably still swearing up a storm back at the motel. Dean had taken off to find a bar, somewhere his father wouldn't go. There was only one place he could think of.

Dean stared up at the familiar sight of the _Two of a Kind_ bar.

Bobby, the grisly bartender from last year, was tending bar again. Dean saw him glance up and the man's eyes narrowed. Dean just grinned at the man.

His eyes scanned the bar, the booths, and the dance floor. No Harry. No Sam.

Dean sighed. No matter, he could get drunk on his own whether he had company or not. He just wished he didn't have to.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

Jess lovingly pressed the ice pack to Sam's head, covering as much of the red area as she could. Harry chuckled at the pair of them. Sam's massive figure took up so much of the couch that his legs were hanging off the end. Jess was forced to perch on the edge of the sofa, just to remain close.

"Did you have to hit him so hard?" Jess asked, glaring from her position on the couch at Harry.

Harry made an apologetic face. "You told me to win the bet no matter what."

"Obviously I wanted you to win, Harry," she returned hotly, "but I didn't mean for it to happen like this."

Before Harry could reply, Sam moaned on the couch and mumbled something unintelligible.

Jess leaned closer and in her most melodic tones asked, "What did you say, Sam?"

Sam's eyes flickered open and focused on her, then Harry, then back at Jess.

"I said I knew I was being tricked into something."

Jess smacked him lightly on the shoulder. Harry chuckled again.

"You can't hit me," Sam mock-complained, "I'm sick."

"Here," Jess said, forcing Sam's hand onto the ice pack, "you can hold this on your own."

Sam pulled his legs back onto the couch, and shifted into a sitting position. Jess squeaked as Sam pulled her onto his lap. Harry watched Sam's eyes soften as he held his girlfriend.

"Guess I won the bet."

Sam glared at him in response. "Cheated is more like it."

"No," Harry corrected, "I tricked you into a bet, but I didn't cheat to win it. Look on the bright side though."

"Bright side? What bright side?"

"Girls can't help but play nurse around an injured guy. They'll take one look at that bright red spot on your face and swoop in to mend you."

Jess couldn't help but laugh.

"And you," Sam said, turning his attention to his girlfriend, "were in cahoots with that maniac?"

Jess put on her most innocent expression. "I just wanted to go to the Halloween party with you. Don't you want to spend more time with me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why did you say you'd come to a party with me when you knew you were on dorm duty?"

"Well, I just realized and I –"

"And why didn't you try to trade with another RA when you found out?"

"Well, it was really short notice and I didn't want to inconvenience –"

"And Harry's helped you out before, and he hates Halloween almost as much as you do. Yet you didn't think to ask him?"

"Well, I –"

"Dude," Harry said, breaking into the tirade, "just suck it up. You're going trick or treating."

Sam sighed. "Alright, I'll go to the party."

"Great!" Jess said enthusiastically, jumping to her feet instantly. "I've got your costume in the bedroom."

Harry clapped excitedly, "Can't wait!"

"Yeah," Sam said, demoralized, "can't wait."

"Sam Winchester get you butt in this room or I'll let Harry help you get the costume on instead!" Jess yelled from the bedroom.

Sam took one look at the feral grin on Harry's face before hopping up and dashing into the bedroom.

Harry relaxed into the large chair in Sam's living room. If there was ever a reason Harry might consider being an RA, it was definitely the living space. The Residential Advisor in each dormitory on campus had several perks, but none more impressive than the dorm rooms. Sam's in particular was a combination of three separate dorm rooms that had been converted into a small apartment. There was a small kitchen, a living room, and a spacious bedroom complete with a minute private bathroom.

"Harry?" Jess called from the bedroom.

"Was there supposed to be someone else here?" Harry asked, cheekily.

"I guess you'll have to do," Jess teased back. "Ready to see our costumes?"

"Hold on," Harry called. Deciding not to waste time, Harry wandlessly summoned his video camera from his room. He cast a disillusionment charm on it and set it on top of the TV, strategically aiming it towards the bedroom.

"What's taking so long?" Jess asked. Harry heard Sam whisper something to Jess; presumably that Harry should take as long as possible.

"Relax," Harry said, retaking his seat, "I'm ready when you are."

A moment later Jess did a little dance move out of the bedroom and into the living room area. She was dressed only in a yellow bra and skirt, leaving her legs and stomach mostly bare. On closer inspection Harry could see that the yellow clothing had small jagged black lines randomly placed on it, creating an animal print look. Jess's beautiful blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, two fake bones holding it together.

"You make a beautiful cave woman, Jess."

"Thanks, Harry."

They waited a moment for Sam to appear, but their patience was fruitless.

"Sam?"

Nothing.

"You okay in there, mate?"

Still nothing.

Jess moved towards the bedroom. "Sam, I know you're embarrassed, but –"

Jess screeched as Sam dashed out of the room, picking her up in one swift motion, and throwing her over his shoulder. In his other hand, Sam held a massive fake wooden club. Sam was dressed in the same skirt type as Jess. The only difference was that his was held up by a single leather strap that disappeared over his right shoulder. He was naked otherwise.

"Bam bam, bam bam," Sam said again and again. Jess's legs kicked uselessly at the air.

Harry burst out laughing, actually collapsing on the floor in delight. Sam brought Jess close enough that Harry was able to help in the torture of their mutual friend.

After a few moments of friendly teasing, the boys agreed to let Jess become upright again.

"Is that why we've been working out all week, Sam?" Harry teased. "Knew you might have to show off a bit."

"A bit?" Sam cried indignantly, "I'm practically naked."

Jess whispered something in Sam's ear that Harry knew he really did not want to overhear. Taking his cue, Harry stood and grabbed his invisible camera while Sam was busy being distracted by Jess's mumblings.

"I think I'm going to take off," Harry informed the pair. "Gotta shower after the gym and lugging Big-Foot here back to his room."

"You didn't even get your photos!" Jess reminded him, much to Sam's displeasure.

"A travesty, really," Sam added wryly.

"Oh well," Harry said, pretending to be unhappy as he gripped the camera even tighter, "maybe when you guys get back."

As Harry closed the door, he saw Sam pick Jess up again and head for the bedroom.

"Bam bam, indeed," Harry joked to himself, laughing all the way back to his own room.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

"We're here, boy."

Dean jerked awake at the taxi driver's announcement.

He'd been too drunk to drive himself, but that wasn't going to stop him. Dean had been forced to leave the keys to his baby with Bobby the bartender and a promise to kill the man if anything happened to her.

Dean was on a mission to see his brother. The more he had drunk, and he'd drunk _a lot_, the better the idea had become. Sam had always been a good little brother, one who had listened to the wisdom of Dean Winchester since he was young enough to understand Dean.

Dean was confident that given enough time, he could bring Sammy home. Then they'd be together again: John, Dean, _and_ Sammy. There would be no more fights… only drinking and hunting. Everything would be how it was supposed to be.

He just needed to find his wallet.

"You okay back there, boy?"

Dean belched in response, the stench of alcohol filling the backseat.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a real charmer?" the taxi driver asked.

Dean grinned wolfishly. He passed the man a wad of money through the slit in the plastic that divided the front from the back of the taxi. Dean climbed out of the cab and stepped onto the cement sidewalk before breathing in the collegiate air. The taxi pulled away behind him.

"So this is college?" Dean asked the empty air around him. He filled his lungs with air, held it a moment… and then puked all over the sidewalk.

"Crap."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

On the screen, Nancy screamed bloody-murder as soon as Freddy Krueger appeared behind her. Harry rolled his eyes, and grabbed another fistful of popcorn.

Ever since starting his new life, he'd become a fan of the horror movie genre. Truthfully, he was a fan of movies in general. Horror movies somehow entertained him more than the other genres though. He especially enjoyed the_ Nightmare on Elm Street_ series, which was both scary and pretty funny. There was no better way he could think of to spend Halloween night than a marathon of the best ones in the series.

Harry had decided that since he was covering for Sam, it was only fair that he get to use Sam's TV and eat Sam's food. If Sam had a problem with it, he could always let Harry know during their next sparring match.

Harry's watch began to beep, alerting him to his first set of rounds. Having done the procedure before, Harry knew that RA's were required to check their respective dormitories. This check had to be done a certain number of times a night. Harry set his first rounds for midnight, hoping that everyone was either still at their parties or asleep.

Harry set the DVD to pause, letting the frame settle on an image of Krueger laughing maniacally. He set the bucket of popcorn, his third, on the small table in front of the couch. He stretched, grabbed the master set of keys that Sam had left him, and pulled his shoes on.

Harry opened the door and jumped when someone's limp form fell into the doorway.

There, collapsed on Harry's shoes, was Dean.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

_A few moments earlier…_

It had only taken Dean twenty minutes, three coeds, and a detour around Stanford Campus Safety to find Sam's dormitory.

Dean was proud of his brother for becoming a Residential Advisor, and yet also seriously disappointed. Leave it to his little brother to find a way to be 'responsible' in a situation where frat parties, chicks, and liqueur were the best ways to spend your time.

If Dean had done the whole college thing, he would have done it right. First, he would have charmed his way into one of the state schools that was infamous for being a party school. Then he would have taken his pick of the frats, and won his way to being the king of Greek row. Then he'd take his time bedding down all the chicks from the sororities… and maybe even a few of the brothers as well. He'd be a super senior for the rest of his life.

It took a minute for Dean to break out of his college fantasy and refocus on the real world again. He still needed to find Sam's door before he passed out.

Luckily for him, a couple dressed as Batman and Catwoman was exiting the dorm just as he approached. Dean held the door open for them as they exited, and then slipped inside before anyone realized he didn't live there.

In the lobby he found the directory of Residential Advisors that listed their names, room numbers, and phone extensions.

Dean took a few attempts to drag his finger in a straight line across the board to read the information next to Sammy's name. When he was sure he'd gotten it right, he crossed the lobby and began looking for an elevator.

Eventually it occurred to him that perhaps the building didn't have an elevator. Dean cursed and started the long march up to Sam's floor. It really wasn't doing his already upset stomach any favors. He even had to stop halfway there for a breather.

Eventually he reached the landing of Sam's floor. Much like a climber having just scaled Mount Everest, Dean threw both hands triumphantly in the air and fake cheered for himself.

"Champion of the world," he muttered to no one in particular.

He started counting down the room numbers until he reached a door that had a small photo of Sam's face and his name written in glitter on the door. Dean's lip curled in disgust at the atrocious artwork. He tried to brush off some of the glittery letters, but used too much force and ended up ripping the sign down.

"Shit."

Dean, looking like a three year old that just broke his parent's favorite vase, checked to make sure no one had seen him do the deed. He bent down to pick up the paper. Halfway there, he realized that the alcohol had removed his ability to balance and he fell the rest of the way to floor with a thud.

"Ouch."

Dean cradled the hand he'd used to break his fall. Thankfully it only stung a little bit. Dean picked up the paper with Sam's name on it and slapped it firmly against the door until he was sure it would stay.

Dean smiled at a mission accomplished. It never occurred to him that having the name at the bottom of the door would be a noticeable difference.

His first attempt to return to a standing position had him back on his ass within seconds. He rubbed the bruised area of his butt and waited for the sharp pain to stop.

Dean leaned against the door of Sam's room and decided to just shut his eyes for a few minutes. Just until he could think of a new plan to stand up.

His snores filled the hallway within seconds.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

Harry froze for a moment and just stared at Dean's crumpled form.

Harry had tried to convince himself that his encounter with Dean last year hadn't swayed his choice in colleges and universities. He had tried, but he had failed to truly convince himself.

Every time he glimpsed a guy in a leather jacket, he checked their face for hard cheekbones. Every time an impala drove by on the highway, he felt a little jolt of hot sweat and sex. Whenever he started hooking up with someone, it never compared to his time with Dean. Every weekend he visited the bar they had met in, and checked for Dean while he evaluated the place for potential threats.

He couldn't help it; some part of him had gone to Stanford in the hope that he might run into Dean again. Until now, he had been inherently disappointed.

And yet here was the object of his misplaced affection, lying on his feet.

He was struck by a sudden thought that terrified him, _Could Dean be dead?_

Harry dropped to his knees and began shaking Dean by his shoulders.

"Dean?" Harry asked franticly. "Dean, are you alright? Dean!"

Slowly, he saw Dean's eyes start to flutter. _Thank Merlin_, he thought. Harry realized that his sudden shaking of Dean had caused his head to smack against the floor. Harry cradled Dean's head instead.

"Harry?" Dean croaked, wide eyed.

"Dean?" Harry asked in return, immediately feeling stupid for asking a question he obviously knew the answer to. "What are you doing here?"

"Had to…" Dean said. "Had to see…"

"What, Dean, what did you need to see?"

Dean's focus moved up to the door and he tried to point at Sam's name on the door. To Harry, it looked as if he was merely pointing at Harry's face. Harry tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the idea that Dean had come for him.

"Me?"

Dean frowned slightly, looked back at Sam's name, and then at Harry's face… but he said nothing.

Dean tried to mentally wade through the alcohol-induced fog that was his consciousness. He had come to see Sam, but had come across Harry. Harry, whom he had shared one of the best nights of his life with; Harry, whose number he had kept longer than he should have; Harry, the only guy he'd ever really wanted.

Visiting with Sam had been such a bad idea that he'd had to get drunk to sell it to himself. He was so far gone now that any kind of impression he'd wanted to make on his little brother would be useless. He'd just disappoint Sam again.

That didn't mean his night had to be a complete waste, did it?

He'd known that he might run into Harry. If he was honest with himself, he knew there was no chance of him talking Sam into coming back with him.

Dean turned his full attention to Harry and drunkenly said, "Found you."

Then Dean passed out cold.

Harry smelt the alcohol wafting from Dean's entire body. "Figures."

Harry mentally debated his course of action. He could bring Dean into Sam's room and leave him there for the night, but that would certainly spoil Jess and Sam's date night. Harry's room was at the other end of the hall, and Dean was a big guy. Harry would have to levitate him no matter what. At least if he was in Harry's room, he could keep an eye on him through the night.

Once he was sure the coast was clear Harry disillusioned Dean and levitated his limp form down the hall, and into his room. Harry locked the door behind them, leaving Dean hanging in the air momentarily.

Despite having the single on the floor, Harry still had a freshman dorm room, which was stereotypically small. He didn't have a large comfy couch for Dean to sleep on, so he'd have to be in the bed. Harry physically cleared off whatever items were covering his bed. He pulled the sheet and comforter back and propped up one of the pillows. Then he levitated Dean into the bed.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He didn't know if it was appropriate to undress Dean. He'd always appreciated when Ron would do it for him after a night of drinking. No one liked sleeping in their clothes, it was too uncomfortable. Did the rules change if you'd slept with someone? Was it perverted that he _really_ wanted to undress an unconscious and immobile Dean?

Harry magically lifted Dean into a sitting position to pull off Dean's trademark jacket. He let his left hand hold the sleeve, while his right found Dean's shoulder very comfortable to hold on to. Harry felt warm at the reminder of the strength in Dean's body. He couldn't help but slip his hand a little further into the jacket sleeve, lightly massaging the arm muscles he found there.

He was startled when Dean made a noise. Then he realized that Dean was moaning incoherently. Not a disturbed moan, but a _pleasurable_ moan.

At that realization, any doubts Harry had melted away.

He took his time reaching around behind Dean to slide his hands across the top of Dean's back and shoulders. He repeated the motion with Dean's other arm, until the jacket came free. Harry levitated the jacket down under the bed.

Next he trailed his fingers down Dean's torso to his legs, pointedly ignoring the groin, and circled his ankles. Harry unlaced Dean's boots and slipped them off as gently as he could. His nimble fingers penetrated the cuff of Dean's jeans and moved upward until reaching the skin at the top of his white socks. He took his time sliding the cotton off each foot. Dean, he noticed, had a cute little freckle at the base of his right ankle. Feeling suddenly daring, Harry gave the freckle a quick peck of his lips.

Harry turned his attention to the plaid button down that Dean wore with the top 3 buttons undone already. Harry had always hated buttons, so he let his magic pop the first one. Then the second, the third, and so on until Dean's white undershirt was completely visible. Harry pressed lightly at Dean's side, leaving his hand there just to feel Dean's abdomen rise and fall with oxygen. His hand traveled upward, catching a nipple in the journey, and focused on the dress collar. Within moments Dean was without his button down.

Harry swallowed thickly as he realized there was a bulge in Dean's pants. He figured that must not be very comfortable in those jeans. He knew first hand how "Big Dean" needed room to breathe. It would only be right to free him.

At the mental thought, Harry's magic popped the button on Dean's jeans. Harry's hands were trembling to hard to pull the zipper down, so he let the magic do that as well. The top of grey boxers peaked out. Harry slid both his hands into the jeans, one on each upper thigh. He pushed down, making sure to move the jeans but leave the boxers on. He stopped when Big Dean had just enough room to settle freely.

Harry moved to the bottom of the bed. He slid his hands upwards along the top of Dean's thighs. When he reached the top of the jeans he pulled them the rest of the way down. He let the jeans fall into a crumpled pile under the bed. Dean shifted at the sudden air on his body.

Harry stared open-mouthed at his prize. Dean had snuggled one hand under the pillow beneath his head, the other at his side. His legs stretched, one bent against the other, to form a P with his legs. Big Dean was standing at attention beneath the grey boxers. The thin white shirt that covered Dean's upper body had ridden up during the stretch. Between the hem of the shirt and the tip of the boxers were Dean's belly button and the light dusting of hair that comprised his treasure trail.

Harry saw that Dean had left the button on his boxers unfastened and that Big Dean was aimed towards the opening. He traced the outline of the familiar member with his eyes. All it would take is a little nudge and Big Dean would taste the open air.

Harry leaned forward, right hand outstretched towards Big Dean…

Harry jumped as someone knocked on the door. He glanced fearfully at Dean, expecting for the noise to have woken him. For a moment, he thought it had, but Dean just rolled over onto his side and snuggled into Harry's favorite pillow.

Harry sighed and threw up a silencing charm on the door, lest the person get impatient and knock again. Harry covered Dean with the sheets, before answering the door. He opened it just far enough to show some of the room, but not the bed Dean was occupying.

A girl from the floor below, Amanda, was at the door. She was dressed in an elaborate Angel outfit, complete with wind-blown feathers.

"Hey, Harry," Amanda said brightly. "Do you know where Sam is? He's the person on duty tonight but he wasn't in his room."

Harry glanced back at Dean before putting a smile on. He should be thankful to Amanda for saving him from himself… right?

"I'm covering for him tonight, Amanda."

"Oh! Excellent."

As Harry followed Amanda down the hall, he tried to listen to the details of whatever problem she needed fixed right that moment. Harry couldn't help it if his attention was focused on the man in his bed upstairs and the intimate moment he'd left unfinished.

_There's always the morning_, Harry consoled himself.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Special thanks to everyone that reviewed. I was really nervous about my sex scene and all the feedback was wonderful! Thanks!!!

I didn't know it at the time, but apparently this site has some really uptight policy on mature scenes. Whoops. I know now, so if people want more of those scenes I might have to find another site to add in the more mature elements. Suggestions would be lovely.

This chapter was supposed to include all the major scenes from Harry's freshman year, but I felt the re-introduction of Dean and Harry deserved a whole chapter. Apparently, my muse did as well since it took forever. Next chapter we'll see the next morning and the rest of freshman year for Harry.

Also, I've become a beta for the wonderfully talented **scarletsptember** and her TWO harry potter/supernatural crossovers _**Motel 59**_ and _**Thunderstruck**__. _Be sure to check them out, because they are so worth it. One is developing into Sam/Harry/Dean, and the other is a very promising Harry/Sam. The author and the stories should be linked under my favorites… because that's what they are.

As always, don't forget to REVIEW!!!


	5. Perchance to Dean

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

**Genre:** Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major **SLASH** themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry (except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1) and that JK Rowling never published Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone lol. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the feedback and suggestions for adult scenes. I really struggled with them this chapter, but hopefully they're acceptable. While we're on that note… **There are several scenes of a SEXUAL NATURE that involves SLASH in this chapter. There will be no in-text warnings this time. **Be sure to check out the Author's Note at the end of the chapter as well.

HAPPY FRIDAY THE 13TH!!!

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 4:**

"**Perchance To Dean"**

"The words that echo in the night,  
They're fading away,  
They're gone without a trace.  
Now it's up to you and me,  
Let's open up the door,  
And meet each other – face to face."

- Foreigner, _Face to Face_

PREVIOUSLY…

_As Harry followed Amanda down the hall, he tried to listen to the details of whatever problem she needed fixed right that moment. Harry couldn't help it if his attention was focused on the man in his bed upstairs and the intimate moment he'd left unfinished._

_There's always the morning, Harry consoled himself._

6:00 AM, THE NEXT MORNING

It took Harry almost the rest of the night to deal with Amanda's problem. More accurately, it took him about a minute to trap and kill the spider that had scared her. The rest of his time had been consumed by the numerous other issues the residents of his dormitory forced him to deal with in Sam's absence.

By the time he got back to his room, he was so exhausted that even the prospect of Dean's visit couldn't elicit much reaction from him.

Dean had apparently found Harry's bed very comfortable. When Harry had left, Dean had been curled up on one side of the bed. Now, Dean had spread himself to cover the entire bed. Granted, college dorm beds were typically quite small but Harry had managed to use his magic to enlarge it slightly. Harry had also made it more comfortable.

"Shove over, Dean," Harry ordered, prodding Dean in the shoulder, letting his hand linger on the older man's shoulder. Harry shuddered at the warmth radiating through the thin t-shirt.

Dean shot straight up in bed, grabbing Harry's wrist and twisting it away from him. Harry's fighting instincts took over, and forced Dean to relinquish his wrist in the way he was trained to… with pain.

"Ow!" Dean cried out, obviously still a little drunk. "Harry?"

"Who else?"

It took Dean a few moments to remember the events of the night before. He recalled his fight with John. He remembered checking out _Two of a Pair_ and being severely disappointed that Harry hadn't been there. He also vividly recollected the vast amount of alcohol he had consumed there.

"You're really not a morning person, are you?" Harry asked wryly.

Dean smiled despite his still half-drunken state. He had missed Harry's sense of humor.

"Don't you know not to wake a man when he's getting a good nights rest?" Dean asked him. "It's a very dangerous endeavor."

Harry held up the wrist that Dean had attacked. "Yeah, I get that."

Dean had the decency to look somewhat abashed for his actions. "What time is it?"

"Almost 7:00."

"In the morning?" Dean asked, alarmed. "Why are you waking me up so early?"

"Because," Harry explained, pulling back some of the covers, "you were taking up the whole bed."

Dean smirked. "Sure there's enough room for us both? We might have to squeeze."

"That's the idea."

Harry lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the same pile under the bed that contained Dean's discarded clothing. Dean shifted over, letting his back curl slightly against the wall to take in the show. Harry smirked and took his time unbuckling his belt. Harry turned around to lock the door. He kept his back to Dean as he slid his jeans slowly down his thighs and to his ankles.

He let Dean have a few seconds to look over his back before walking back to the bed. Dean faked a yawn as Harry jumped up into the slightly raised bed. Dean waited as Harry settled himself. He snorted in amusement when Harry chose to lay flat on his back, taking up more than half the bed. A stray bit of skin connected with Dean's bare calf beneath the covers.

"Did you undress me?" Dean asked, suddenly realizing he had been sleeping in just his undershirt and boxers.

"Are you complaining?"

Dean shook his head before shifting his body next to Harry's. They lay in silence for a moment just enjoying the comfortable peace.

"You're not going to ask me why I'm here?" Dean questioned Harry, his eyebrow arched.

Harry appraised him. "You said you came to find me. Was there something else I needed to know?"

"And you're okay with that?" Dean wondered aloud. "No interrogation on where I've been, why I haven't called… nothing?"

Harry shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, Dean. We're not dating. You're just the bloke who gave me one of the best shags of my life."

"_One _of the best?" Dean questioned, his voice rising high. "Are you sure you're not just overestimating the others? I'm a damn good... shag, I guess."

Harry merely chuckled at Dean's indignation.

Determined to prove his claim, Dean let his hand trail a line down Harry's chest to the waistline of his boxers, before Harry stopped him.

"What?"

"Later," Harry said, giving Dean's intrusive hand a short kiss. "Now we sleep."

Dean was torn between the two things he wanted most at the moment: more sleep and more Harry. Deciding to take the best of both worlds, he wormed his arm under Harry's shoulder. Before Harry could protest, the younger man was lifted from his position on the bed, and on top of Dean.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry demanded.

"Manhandling you."

"And this is appropriate?" Harry asked, not making a move to fight it.

"You may have added some muscle, Harry," Dean teased, "But I'm still the bigger one here."

Harry grumbled something unintelligible before settling his weight onto Dean. Dean grunted as Harry let his elbow settle in the pit of his stomach.

"You pack quite a punch, you know," Dean informed him.

"Speaking of which," Harry responded, "you should really learn not to attack people first thing in the morning."

"Habit," Dean said apologetically. "Although, I noticed you knew how to handle yourself."

"And don't forget it," Harry said dryly. Harry felt the deep rumblings of laughter through Dean's chest. Suddenly, he didn't think being on top of Dean was such a horrible thing after all.

The boys settled into their positions and Harry fell asleep to the rhythmic thumping in Dean's chest.

* * *

Harry's lips started to move before he was even fully conscious. In his defense, a second pair of lips had initiated the motion before he was awake. His lips were just responding as they were meant to. Even when Harry realized that he was sleepily kissing Dean his lips were too persistent to stop… so Harry went along with it.

Through his lips, he felt it when Dean smiled.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep with that poking into my stomach?" Dean asked.

Harry's eyebrows raised in question. _What was poking Dean?_ He was sure he'd moved his elbow. Dean rolled his eyes at Harry's cluelessness. To clarify the situation Dean rolled his stomach up and then down, causing Harry to gasp in pleasure.

"Oh," Harry said breathily, still shuttering from the sensation running through him, "_that_."

"Yes, that," Dean mocked.

"Sorry," Harry apologized before lifting a leg and starting to move off of Dean.

Dean grabbed his thigh and held him down on top of him. "I didn't mean I couldn't sleep because it hurt. It was just very distracting not being able to reach it."

Harry blushed. Dean's eyes grew hooded with passion, and he reached a hand up to cup Harry's cheek. "I love it when you blush like that."

Harry lowered his head to lock lips with Dean again. Just inches away they were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. Harry let his head fall to the pillow next to Dean's in disappointment.

"Not again," Dean growled quietly into Harry's ear.

"Harry?" A voice called from the hallway. Luckily for Dean, Harry couldn't hear his heart stop in panic at the voice. It had been a long time since Dean had heard his younger brother's voice.

"It's just my RA," Harry whispered in Dean's ear. "I should see what he wants."

Dean was too shocked to stop Harry from climbing off of him. Questions burned through his mind. _Sam was at the door? Harry knew Sam? Sam was Harry's RA? What's an RA? Harry's getting off me? Harry's going to open the door? Harry's going to open the door!!! _

It wasn't until Harry was halfway to the door before his mind caught up with the events going on around him. Dean had to stop Harry before he reached the door. So Dean chose the only weapon he had at his disposal to keep Harry from giving them both away… distraction.

Harry took a cautionary glance through the peephole in the door. Sam was outside in his gym clothes. Harry took note of the way his friend's hair was upturned slightly at the back. He recognized the cheerful expression on Sam's face. All evidence pointed to Sam having a pretty damn good night with Jessica… several times.

Harry put a hand on the doorknob and prepared a friendly insult to throw at Sam when he felt arms encircle his waist. Dean's mouth found the hollow on the side of his neck that always made him melt. Harry hadn't even heard Dean climb out of bed.

"Ignore it, baby," Dean said in a deep voice. Harry shivered at the change in demeanor. Harry knew that this was the side of Dean that Dean himself had told him about a year ago at the bar: seducer Dean. Dean and Harry had become so amicable at the bar that Dean hadn't needed to convince Harry to come home with him by going into full on seduction mode.

Harry suddenly found out why Dean was so capable of getting so many partners willingly into his bed. Dean's nimble fingers were everywhere. While one rubbed, the others stroked, teased, pinched and massaged the surrounding patches of skin. Dean's tongue lapped at Harry's neck before adding hungry suction.

Sam knocked again, more insistent.

Dean's left hand reached beneath the waistband of Harry's boxers. There was a moment of hesitation before Dean's fingers submerged themselves, seeking out the very piece of Harry that had kept Dean from sleeping. Harry gasped breathlessly. Dean sensed that Harry was about to moan and took preventative measures. His right hand abandoned one of Harry's nipple and instead moved Harry's head backwards. Dean arched Harry firmly against him and covered Harry's mouth with his own. Harry's moan disappeared into the caverns of Dean's throat.

Dean relaxed his onslaught as he heard Sam's gigantic footsteps move away from the dorm room door. It was too late though, Harry's sex drive had been started and Dean was going to have to satiate it or die trying. Dean felt he was up to the challenge.

Harry took Dean's lack of movement as an invitation to take the lead. Harry used both of his hands to rip Dean's undershirt in two. Dean had never been with a woman who was either motivated or strong enough to be so aggressive. Harry didn't even stop to enjoy the look of utter shock on Dean's face before attacking Dean's newly revealed flesh.

Dean had always known exactly which part of his body was the most sensitive to sexual manipulation. It appeared that Harry had remembered just how important it was to target Dean's large and overly susceptible nipples. Dean's knees buckled and they both fell to the floor, Harry on top. Harry kept a firm hold of Dean after that as he worked over each nipple for what felt like hours to Dean. Harry sucked each one and then nibbled as if to give each a massive hickey.

Harry left behind a wet trail of saliva leading to Dean's belly-button. He felt Big Dean press into his collarbone as he worked his tongue in and out of the curious abdominal hole. Giving in to Dean's whispered pleas, Harry focused his attention on Dean's groin.

Harry didn't provide immediate release though. He used his teeth to roll Dean's boxers down his legs, letting his hair teasingly fall over Big Dean. Dean grabbed a blanket off the back of Harry's desk chair and balled it up under his head. Harry realized that this gave Dean the leverage necessary to watch Harry's progress in his nether regions.

Harry took his time to lift Dean's right leg and kiss the inner thigh. His cheek rubbed suggestively next to Big Dean and his two friends. Harry repeated the procedure with Dean's left leg before moving to the Adonis belt. Big Dean settled into the crook of his neck as Harry focused his attention above.

By the time Harry took his first mouthful of Big Dean, its owner was panting powerfully. Dean's whole body was shaking in pleasure, his hands stroking through Harry's silky hair. It didn't take long before Harry felt Dean tightening indicating that release was imminent. Harry had dreamt about this moment too much for it to be over so quickly. Dean owed him more.

Harry made sure that Dean was completely entranced by his work on Big Dean before casting his spell. Ironically it was a different Dean that had taught it to him when he was in school. Dean Thomas, one of his Hogwarts dorm mates, had been bragging about a book of sex spells he'd "borrowed" from the restricted section. Harry had used his invisibility cloak to "borrow" it from Dean that very night. It was also where he learned the lubrication charm he had used with Dean last year in the Impala. It wasn't like Professor Flitwick had taught it to him in charms class.

This particular spell was one of Harry's favorites. It stopped the one affected by it from ejaculating until the caster lifted the spell. Harry just hoped Dean wouldn't mind being cursed for a while. Somehow Harry thought Dean could live with it.

Harry cupped Dean's balls in one hand and rubbed them slightly to cover the heat from the spell. Dean jerked up right at the sensation, feeling as if he were ejaculating right there. Dean moaned in delight, but when he checked there was no sign that Big Dean had released anything. Dean knew from experience that Big Dean always left an… impressive amount of evidence.

For one terrifying moment, Harry thought that Dean had realized what had happened. Then he remembered that this spell also gave the impression of a climax each time the cursed partner would have ejaculated. Apparently Harry had been just in time with his spell. Dean was in for a treat.

"Ready for the good stuff?" Harry asked, reaching for the supplies he kept in the desk drawer.

"Don't know how long the good stuff will last," Dean admitted, already donning the proffered condom.

Harry smirked as he added lubrication to Big Dean, "You'll do fine. Trust me."

* * *

An hour and a half later Dean and Harry were covered in sweat. Harry was still on top of Dean but they had certainly not stayed in the same position. Harry's room had been decimated as they used every surface available to rest upon or used as leverage. Harry's favorite had been up against the door, his eye to the peephole, as he watched the other people on his floor listening to the vivacious sex they were having.

Harry had forgotten to cast a silencing spell and thus they had drawn an impressive crowd. One of the soccer players down the hall had even brought popcorn for the rest. Harry was pleased with his good fortune that Sam and Jess and not been part of the crowd. At least they hadn't been a half hour ago.

Dean looked to be in rapture as yet another orgasm rocked him. Harry felt a little guilty that he had let Dean go so long without release. Dean even looked a little pained at times, and then confused. However, one expression that Dean wore more often than not was one of cockiness. Harry just knew that Dean's internal monologue was full of comments about how stud-like he was for not climaxing despite all signs to the contrary.

Harry felt his own climax approaching for the third time. To be fair to his partner, Harry had wandlessly cast the spell on himself. It had gone on long enough in his opinion.

"Soon, Dean." Harry ordered monosyllabically, "I. Close. You?"

Dean nodded as he started to thrust with all the energy he had left. It was now or never. Harry waited until the moment he felt the built up pressure was upon them again and then started a mental countdown.

_Five..._

Harry moaned as Big Dean rapidly hit his prostate again, and again, and again.

_Four…_

Dean's entire body shuddered beneath him. "Oh, God."

_Three…_

"Dean!"

_Two…_

"Harry!"

_One…_

Finite Incantatem.

Outside the door, down the floor, through the entire building and the courtyard outside the sound of two men screaming in pleasure was heard. The noise lasted almost three whole minutes, each second passing the noise diminishing slightly.

Harry collapsed against Dean, not even caring that Big Dean was still buried deep inside of him. Their chests heaved as oxygen was forced in and out rapidly. Dean turned his head to face Harry. They kissed sloppily, tasting heavy amounts of sweat and saliva, before they ran out of energy. Dean unwrapped the blanket he'd used to prop his head up when Harry had been servicing Big Dean. They cuddled beneath the warmth of the cotton and fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

They never even heard the round of applause that erupted on the other side of the door.

* * *

Dean was still asleep when Harry woke up. Judging by the lack of light outside, they'd slept all day and into the night.

Harry left his head buried in the crook of Dean's armpit and bicep, just enjoying the feel of waking up next to Dean again. He knew what it meant that the sex was over. Dean would leave and a year from now Harry would run into him at _Two of a Kind_ again. They'd drink, fuck, and then wait another year.

Harry drowned his disappointment. It was like he had told Dean earlier; the man didn't owe him anything. If you don't expect anything, you can't be disappointed… right?

As soon as Harry tried to sit up he realized what was stopping him. Big Dean was still buried a few inches inside of him. As much as Harry was a fan of Big Dean's work, the aftermath still being inside him after hours was something of a "yuck" factor. Not wanting to touch the thing, Harry let his magic summon it off of Dean all at once and deposited it into the waste bin.

Dean stirred slightly but didn't wake. Harry gave him a soft peck on the lips and then rose slowly. His body ached from the workout Dean and Big Dean had given him. His bones cracked from the hours of sleeping on the floor, even if Dean had been his flesh pillow.

He noticed a small beam of light on his bedside table and realized it was his phone. He plodded across the carpet, naked to the world, and picked up his phone. He had two text messages from Jess, and one from Sam. His cell phone brought them up chronologically from oldest to the most recent.

The first was from Jess at two in the morning.

_Party was great! Won a prize for couples costume. I wanted to say thanks. Sam says you're buying him more popcorn :)_

The second was from Sam.

_Dude. Gym. y r u MIA? Gotta talk about last night._

The last was around dinnertime from Jess.

_Heard some studs made a racket in your building this morn. This wouldn't be related to y u bailed on Sam the gym, wud it?_

Harry smiled. Leave it to Jess to figure it out, and then to Sam for being too uncomfortable to mention it.

Dean stirred behind him. "Harry?"

"Up here."

Dean lifted his head off the floor to look at Harry standing by the bed. Dean devoured the sight. The glow from Harry's cell phone illuminated every sharp curve of his muscles. His features were shadowed but still obviously handsome. The tired smile he sent Dean's way made him feel dizzy. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that he'd bagged the sexiest guy to ever grace California to experiment with.

Dean stumbled over the word in his mind. _Experiment? Is that what was still going on?_ It may have been simple curiosity and libido that brought Harry to the Impala last year, but things had changed. Dean hadn't tried to experiment with anyone else after leaving California last year. He'd even tried hunting Harry down, but his father kept unknowingly interfering. Dean rarely went back for seconds, and never so decisively. Whatever there was between Dean and Harry, he was sure it was no longer simple experimentation.

"You okay?" Harry asked, concerned by Dean's stillness.

"Just thinking."

"Don't exhaust yourself."

"Think you already exhausted me."

"Well, in that case, relax for a bit," Harry instructed him. "I'm going to wash off all this sweat."

"I don't think it's all sweat," Dean proclaimed proudly. "Want some company?"

Harry's hand froze on the towel he had just finished tying around his waist.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I..." Harry started, looking hard into Dean's eyes. He saw that Dean was genuine in his offer to shower together, his subconscious use of legilimency confirming it for him. "Sure."

Dean smiled and held out a hand for help. Harry sighed in mock-contempt and helped Dean to his feet.

"I'm going to need one of those," Dean said, nodding towards Harry's towel.

"What if I only have the one?"

"Then I guess we'll have to share."

Dean unwrapped the towel from around Harry's waist, letting it fall free. Dean drank in the sight of Harry standing naked in front of him. Harry never noticed because he was too busy looking at Dean's still sweat covered body. Dean brought their bodies flush together and wrapped the towel around them. It barely fit so Dean held the two ends together with his hand.

Dean brought his other hand around Harry's waist and kissed him. Both of their lips were chapped from dehydration. The kiss was short but had an intimate feel to it that was new for both parties.

"I really do have another towel," Harry admitted.

"I know," Dean replied, squeezing them even closer together. "I just wanted to say thank-you properly."

"Your welcome."

Harry wrapped his own arms around Dean and settled his face against the hard pectoral muscles of Dean's chest. Dean laid his head on top of Harry's mop of hair. They held each other for a few moments.

"We really should hit the showers."

"Uh-huh."

Neither of them made an effort to move.

* * *

"That's it?" Jess asked incredulously.

"That wasn't enough detail for you?" asked Harry in turn.

To Harry's great surprise, Dean had stayed the whole weekend with Harry. Granted, they only left the room to eat and shower, but it was more time together than last year.

As soon as Monday rolled around, Jess had taken Harry to lunch where they could talk by themselves. Jess had, of course, learned that the infamous love-making incident had indeed come from Harry's room. Like all good friends, Jess had demanded to know every last detail of her friend's sexual encounter.

"Well how did you leave it with TDH?" Jess asked, unsure what to call Harry's mystery man since he refused to give the guy a name. Jess had taken to calling him TDH or rather 'Tall, Dark and Handsome'.

Harry blushed. "I told him that I supposed we'd just meet again in a year."

Jess looked outraged. "And he left it like that? I'm going to have to remove TDH's balls for that!"

"No, he didn't leave it like that." Harry took a sip of coffee, purposefully dragging out the admission to drive his friend crazy.

"And?"

"And he said that he didn't want it to be another year before we saw each other again," Harry explained. "So he left me his number."

"I thought you already had it?"

"No," Harry clarified. "I gave him my number but he said that it got damaged while swimming or something. So this time he got my number _and_ I got his."

"So did you call him yet?"

Harry sighed dejectedly. "Jess, he's on the road a lot with his dad for business. Who knows when he'll be back in California."

"What about holidays?" Jess suggested. "You always house sit for that Professor of yours. Why not invite TDH along? Even traveling businessmen get holidays off."

"Maybe."

Jess sighed. She knew better than to push Harry on personal stuff. She was his friend and if that meant shutting up so that he could feel free to open up later on than that's what she'd do.

"Speaking of sex," Harry said, non-discreetly changing the focus of the conversation. "How was your Halloween party with Sam?"

"He hasn't told you?"

Harry shook his head. "He sent me a text saying that he wanted to talk but that was it. I got a little distracted, remember?"

"Well, his RA re-applications are due in a few weeks. If he wants to be an RA in the dorms again he has to apply."

Harry nodded, knowing how much Sam needed the RA salary to pay for school. It was at times like this that Harry wished he still had his old Gringotts vault to dip into. He'd happily set up an anonymous scholarship in his friends' name… after he got one for himself, of course. It was such a pain to keep obliviating the woman at the Cashiers Office each semester.

"Well, I asked him to apply for an RL position instead."

Harry could see where the conversation was headed. RL's, otherwise known as Residential Life advisors, were the RA's of off campus lots. Instead of supervising a floor of a dormitory, they were responsible for a block of residential housing instead. The pay wasn't as good but the RL got a house to himself and whoever he wanted to live with him at no cost.

"You want to get a house with Sam next year?"

Jess nodded. "I was hoping you'd come with us, actually."

Harry went still. "You want me to live with you guys?"

"Of course, Harry. Sam may be a year older than us, but we're pretty much his only friends outside of those two sophomores from his department."

Harry vaguely recalled Sam having another guy he sometimes worked out with… Zach something or other.

"You know how much you mean to both of us, Harry."

Harry swallowed thickly. He'd never expected to meet anyone that he'd feel as close to as he had with Ron and Hermione. But he'd met Jess at orientation and they'd hit it off so well. Sam, who'd just been a cool RA to Harry before, had spotted Jess in Harry's room and immediately taken a liking to her. They'd been thick as thieves every since.

"If Sam says it okay, than I guess I'm in."

* * *

"Are you okay, son?" John asked, eyeing his eldest son with concern.

Dean debated how best to answer his father. Briefly he thought about telling him the truth, but somehow he didn't think his father would want to know about his emotional turmoil over Harry. _No, Dad, I'm not. I just had the best sex of my life and I think I may actually be developing feelings for the person I had it with… by the way, it's a guy named Harry who goes to school with Sammy. Wanna talk about it?_ No, his father would not respond well to the truth.

This was the exact situation that he had always kept himself safeguarded from by following his simple dating rules. Okay, it was really just one rule: leave in the morning and don't go back unless it was really good. Harry had been amazing last year, but that day in his dorm room was unbelievable. There was a moment during his third and fourth orgasm that he wondered if he was experiencing love. Isn't that what people are supposed to feel when they find their soul mate? Weren't they supposed to fall completely head over heels?

Dean felt disgusted for even thinking the words "soul mate" or such a cliché as "head over heels."

And why did it have to be with a guy? He'd only wanted to experiment the one time and look what it'd gotten him. Every time he touched himself his mind conjured up the image of Harry riding him just before they had climaxed together. Dean and Harry had been so sexually drained that they spent the rest of the weekend just casually groping, but never going all the way again. That was the other thing that bothered Dean: since when did he stick around to talk when the sex time had obviously come to a conclusion… even a _very_ satisfying one.

Just thinking about it was getting him hard again. He hadn't had such a problem keeping his erections under control since he was 13 and found out firsthand what a Playboy was.

"I'm fine, Dad." Dean said shortly, subtly readjusting himself in the passenger seat.

"You don't seem fine, Dean."

To Dean it seemed that his own chick-flick moment had infected his father as well. Usually Dean could just pretend to be fine and John would let it go… for a week or so. But God forbid his father actually want to _discuss_ it.

Dean sighed.

John chuckled. "Girl troubles?"

Dean's head whipped around to look at his father in question. John smiled and tapped the steering wheel lightly. "I know that sigh, Dean. Your mother used to call it my 'female troubles' sigh."

Dean went still at the mention of his mother. John never brought her up. If not for Dean filling in the blanks, Sam wouldn't even know what Mary Winchester had looked like.

"Whenever your mother would drive me nuts, and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, I'd get real quiet and sigh just like that," John informed him pointedly.

"So what'd you do?" Dean asked.

"We'd talk it over." John smiled at some unseen point up the road. "In the end, she'd always get her way though."

Dean let the story digest for a moment.

"So what do I do?"

"Talk it over with her, Dean." John instructed immediately. "You've never been one to settle for very long with anyone, Dean. If some girl's caught your attention for this long than they're something worth holding onto… if even for a little while."

Dean nodded, still fingering his cell phone in his hands.

"Just remember, Dean," John warned his son, his voice deadly serious. "You let this girl into your life, you accept what happens to her. It might not be your choice to end things. Sometimes… things just happen."

Just as Dean was putting the phone back in his pocket it chirped an electronic sequence of beeps. John raised his eyebrow in question.

"Text message," Dean said, flipping open the phone. As he read the message, Dean felt warmth spreading in his stomach again.

_Got plans for New Years? – H._

John saw the brief smile that lit up his son's face. It had been a long time since he'd seen Dean smile like that… not since his mother was still alive. It hurt John to know what he'd done to Dean to turn him into such a good hunter. Sometimes he wondered who the real monster was.

"Like I said, son," John said, staring off into the distance, "sometimes it's not up to you."

* * *

_December 31_

The "house" that Harry took care of for his professor was really more of a log cabin. It was just very modern on the inside with an indoor pool in the backyard. Harry had taken up the job immediately after hearing about it. The cabin was deep in the woods of southern California and his professor paid him decently enough. Plus Harry had no real residence to stay at, so it all worked out quite well for all of the parties involved.

Until now, Harry had never invited anyone to stay at the cabin with him over breaks. His professor had been very specific about not allowing others to the residence. Apparently the last student who had taken care of the vacation home had hosted a raging party there. He'd been fired and subsequently failed the course being taught by the owner. Dean would be his first guest.

Harry had been ridiculously nervous about inviting Dean to spend time with him. Had Harry been more confident in Dean's response, he might have suggested something closer like Christmas or Thanksgiving. By offering Dean some time at New Years he was providing the other man with an out. Not everyone got New Years Day off, so Dean had the perfect excuse. He had been relieved when Dean responded almost immediately that he'd be free and to just send him the address. They were going to spend the whole week together.

Part of Harry's job as caretaker was to keep the place stocked and cleaned so he wasn't worried about those fronts. He was more worried about the sleeping arrangements. There was only the one bed, obviously located in the master bedroom. Was that too presumptuous? What if Dean wanted the couch instead?

Before he knew it night had arrived and Dean was at the front door, a grocery bag held firmly in each arm. Harry eyed the bags, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Dean asked defensively, "I eat a lot of food."

Harry held the door open as Dean passed over the threshold. He took up one of Dean's bags and led him to the kitchen. Dean whistled when he saw the fully stocked refrigerator.

"I guess you had that covered, huh?" Dean asked sheepishly.

Now that Dean was no longer carrying the grocery bags, both men were stuck in an awkward position. The bags had provided an excuse not to greet each other, but now that they were gone… what did they do? Did they shake hands, or was that too formal? Hug like manly friends? Did they kiss? Was that too romantic?

In the end it was Harry's Gryffindor courage that won out. He approached Dean slowly, giving the other man time to escape, before kissing him gently. The kiss was, needless to say, quite awkward and embarrassing for the both of them. Neither was sure what to do now that they had actually planned to meet like normal people would.

"Well, that was…" Dean trailed off, looking for a polite way to end the comment.

"Awkward," Harry finished for him. Dean nodded, thankful that they'd acknowledged it.

Dean wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and dragged him into a sudden kiss. He waited for Harry to stop his surprised struggling before deepening the kiss. When they pulled away, Harry's eyes were still closed.

"Better?" Dean asked.

"Much." Harry led Dean to the bedroom. "Let me give you a tour."

_A few hours later…_

Harry snuggled against Dean's side. Dean kissed the top of Harry's forehead.

"Happy New Years, Harry."

"Happy New Years, Dean."

Both fell asleep with the same thought. _Best New Year's Ever._

* * *

Dean, Harry discovered, like to touch… a lot. It always started with a sleepy Harry feeling the light strokes of Dean's talented fingers. Never in a particularly sexual area, just somewhere on his skin.

Which is why Harry blamed Dean for always starting things up. It was always Dean needing to touch some part of Harry's flesh. Shoulder, neck, stomach, calve, ass… they were all just play toys to Dean. Not that Harry was complaining, it was just that when Harry was touched, he touched back.

Harry liked to return contact with his tongue. Eventually he would seek out one of Dean's nipples and it would be hours before either woke again. Usually only to start the process all over again.

Whole days went by where Dean and Harry just slept and pleasured each other. Eventually Harry got too sore to take on Big Dean and they ended up talking. This wasn't the usual conversation between stolen kisses and chaste touches. They learned the small details that most people learned over dates.

Dean learned that Harry liked to cook. Harry learned that his food tasted even more amazing than usual when it eaten off of Dean's flesh.

Harry learned that Dean could fight. Dean learned that he liked it when Harry pinned him down.

Dean learned that Sam and Harry were quite close. Harry learned that Dean was always willing to hear about his friends. Maybe one day Dean would meet Sam and Jess.

Harry learned that Dean hadn't slept with anyone else, man or woman, since their Halloween escapade. Dean learned that Harry hadn't slept with anyone since their time in the Impala.

The only thing they hadn't learned was what to call each other.

"You really didn't sleep with anyone else?" Dean asked for the hundredth time.

"No, Dean." Harry responded, propping himself up on one of the pillows. "You haven't been with anyone either."

"So?"

"From what you told me, that's not the norm for you."

"I repeat, so?"

"Should I be reading into this, Dean?" Harry asked finally, fingering the sheets between them. "Am I… are we… in a relationship?"

Dean swallowed thickly. He hated these conversations. He couldn't be tied down when he traveled from one end of the country to the other on any given day. Not to mention, Dean could be killed on a hunt without any explanation to give to Harry on why he disappeared.

"Do you want to be in a relationship?" Dean asked, pointedly not answering the question himself.

"I don't know. I know that I like you… that I care about you. I know that I like what we have, Dean."

"So do I."

"Then lets not label it anything. We're just… friends."

"Friends with benefits?"

Harry smirked, "Maybe something with a less crude connotation, but, yes, I guess that would be pretty accurate."

"No strings?"

"Just one, Dean." Harry said seriously, looming so close that their faces almost touched. "Holidays are mine."

Dean laughed. "Deal."

* * *

_Groundhog Day_

"I really don't think Groundhog Day counts as a real holiday, Dean."

Dean kissed Harry again in order to silence him. Harry allowed himself to be gently pushed against the wall, Dean's hand cradling the back of his head.

"Jeez, talk about someone who doesn't like surprises," Dean murmured against Harry's lips.

"I missed you," Harry confessed, letting his hands slide up and down Dean's hard sides.

"It's only been a month."

"A month and three weeks," Harry complained. "That's practically two months! Didn't you miss me, too?"

"Of course I did. Didn't you get my text messages?"

Harry nodded. "Texting me quizzes on band members doesn't count, Dean."

"How does making sure you know who the lead guitarist in AC/DC is not count as keeping in touch?" Dean demanded.

"It's not romantic."

"We don't like romance," Dean countered.

Harry nodded. "Fine, fine. Have it your way."

"That's what I like to hear."

Harry laughed as Dean picked him up and threw him onto the dorm bed. Harry made sure to send wandless locking and silencing spells at the door before Dean succeeded in distracting him completely.

* * *

_Valentine's Day_

John brought the pitcher of beer to the booth that Dean had saved for them. This was their celebratory tradition after a successful hunt. Of course, successful in the Winchester vocabulary meant they got the big-baddie and no one got killed or injured in the process. Thus, it was a rare occasion and worthy of mediocre beer and some televised sports.

Dean had his phone open again and that bright smile on his face. John had seen that smile every day since New Years when Dean had disappeared for a few weeks. It was such a change in demeanor for Dean that he'd even fed his eldest son a few shots of holy water with his drinks… just in case.

Now he knew better. John had long ago determined which smile Dean wore each time he was thinking about whatever girl had taken his son's heart. John had long ago given up hope of Dean settling down with a girl, but now… now he wasn't sure. He wondered how long it would be before he lost both of his sons to the world beyond hunting.

How long would it be before John was truly alone in the world?

"Why wonders never cease," John said, setting the beer down on the table. "Is that my son, Dean, grinning like a school girl over some woman on Valentine's Day?"

Dean blushed and put his phone in his jacket pocket. "No."

"No?" John asked, disbelief carved into his facial features.

"We're not like that, Dad. We don't do mushy."

"Than what was that on the phone?"

"She sent me a picture," Dean explained, trying to make the 'she' sound as natural as possible. He'd cross that bridge with his father when he was ready, not because he slipped up and revealed that he was seeing a man.

"Oh," John said, understanding filling his eyes, "one of _those_ pictures."

"What?" Dean asked, his voice going high, "_NO._ Not one of those pictures! Gross, Dad."

"Than a picture of what, Dean?"

Dean smirked and passed his father the phone. John eyed the picture in confusion before bursting out laughing.

On the screen was a picture of two dogs, one a Golden Retriever and the other a Rottweiler, who were sitting in bed together. Their paws were touching as if they were holding hands. Across the bedpost was a thought bubble that read, "Wanna bone?"

Beneath the picture was Harry's text.

_Thinking of you on V-Day. Don't go chick-flick on me. – H._

John passed the phone back to Dean.

"She's perfect for you, Dean."

* * *

_Mardi Gras_

Weeks ago Dean and Harry had set up a system for letting each other know when they were in the area. If Dean was waiting for Harry, he'd leave a large "D" on his white board hidden beneath a magnet. Every day when Harry got back from classes he would lift the magnet to see if Dean had left him anything.

He grinned as he saw Dean's messy "D" scribbled beneath the magnet. He'd just known that Dean wouldn't be able to resist celebrating Mardi Gras with him.

When he opened the door, Dean was already undressed and waiting for him.

"Fancy meeting you here," Harry said, locking the door behind him.

"I was just doing some reading on Mardi Gras," Dean explained, showing Harry a printout of an internet page. "Did you know they have these little beads in New Orleans that symbolize how… _active_ a person has been during Mardi Gras?"

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Oh really? Fascinating."

Dean nodded in agreement. "I knew you'd feel that way. In fact, I may have brought some with me to show you."

Harry stripped off his shirt. "I'd love to see them."

Dean lifted a finger to stop Harry's progress. "Oh no, Harry. Weren't you listening? You only get the beads after you've _earned_ them."

Harry smirked. "I always did look good in beads."

* * *

_St. Patrick's Day_

Sam slammed the shot down on the counter.

"Careful with my counter, boy," A gruff Bobby-the-bartender ordered from behind the bar.

Sam nodded immediately before turning to Harry and Jess.

"Is there a reason we're at a gay bar, Harry?"

Jess answered for Harry, "We're waiting for TDH, obviously."

"TDH?" Sam asked.

"Tall, Dark and Handsome," Harry explained. "That's what she calls him."

"What do you call him?" Sam asked.

"Whatever he wants me to," Harry said suggestively, mock-leering towards Sam.

"Too much information, dude."

Jess laughed at the boys. Harry nervously checked the bar again.

"He was supposed to be here half an hour ago."

Jess put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sure he's just running late, Harry."

"I just wanted him to finally meet you guys, that's all."

Sam and Jess shared a look behind Harry's back. They both knew that Harry had fallen hard for this guy. They didn't want to see him get hurt.

From outside the bar Dean re-read the text message he had been debating sending Harry for the last half-hour. He'd shown up at the bar to find that Harry had brought Sam and an attractive woman that he assumed was his girlfriend Jess.

Harry and Dean hadn't seen each other in weeks. Dean had been looking forward to getting drunk with Harry on St. Patrick's Day all week. Why did Harry have to ruin it by bringing Sammy along?

Dean knew why. Harry wanted to introduce him to his friends. If only Harry had chosen to be friends with someone else. Dean pressed the 'send' button and got back into the Impala. He didn't want to have to bear witness to Harry's reaction to the message.

Inside the bar Harry visibly brightened at the sound of his text message alert going off. He quickly snapped open the phone and read the message, each word diminishing his happiness.

_Can't come tonight. Got bogged down with work. Catch you next time. – D._aHarHh

Harry smashed the cell phone into his pocket and ordered another round.

* * *

_Memorial Day_

It had been months since Harry had heard from Dean. Which is why it was so surprising when Dean showed up out of the blue at Harry's door.

"Dean?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Hey, Harry," Dean greeted before passing out cold.

Harry saw some blood staining the inside of Dean's coat and shirt. He took immediate action and levitated Dean onto his bed. After making sure that Dean was completely unconscious he cast all of the diagnostic spells that Madame Pomfrey had taught him during the war.

It soon became apparent that Dean had been grazed by some knives or some other sharp instrument. Three long gashes, very similar to some of the claw marks Remus Lupin used to endure at the full moon, were cut into Dean's flesh. Harry wondered if Dean had been attacked by a bear or something.

Harry put both his hands over Dean's wound and allowed his healing magic to flow through his fingertips. Slowly the cuts began to heal to the point that no one would complain about them. Harry had to resist healing the remainder of the injury as it might alert Dean to his supernatural gifts.

He wrapped the wound with some conjured gauze and cleaned out the wound. He made sure to check for infections. Finally he was satisfied that Dean would live without permanent consequences.

Harry debated joining Dean on the bed, but decided against it. He was pretty sure the only reason he had ever seen Dean again was because he'd obviously been injured. Instead, Harry grabbed one of the pillows and a blanket and settled onto the dorm floor carpet.

In the morning he awoke to see Dean hovering over him. He jerked upright in surprise.

"It's just me," Dean said lightly.

"Never expected to see you again," Harry responded tightly. "So forgive me if I'm surprised."

Dean had the good sense to at least appear ashamed for his actions. He also didn't offer any explanation for his whereabouts either.

"Going to fill me in on what happened?" Harry asked.

"Animal attack," Dean lied immediately.

"Practice that much, did you?" Harry mocked. "I've never pushed you for personal details, Dean. Do me the favor of just not answering. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, Harry."

"Whatever, Dean."

They waited in silence until Dean broke it. "How have you been?"

"You actually care now?" Harry demanded.

"I never stopped caring, Harry."

"I sent you how many text messages, Dean? And you responded to a grand total of _zero_ of them. You call that caring?"

"I call it me fucking up," Dean admitted. "I wanted to text back. I did."

"Than why didn't you?"

Dean sighed. "You asked me not to lie and I can't tell you the truth, so…"

Harry nodded in understanding. "I thought you were dead," he whispered.

"I wish I could tell you, Harry. You have no idea."

"You're right, Dean. I don't know. I don't know where you're from, what your job is. Dean, I don't even know your last name. And now you show up, bleeding on my doorstep with no explanation. You could be a criminal or an axe murderer for all I know!"

"Harry…"

"You know the worst part of it, Dean?" Harry asked, exhaustion layered in his voice.

"What's the worst part, Harry?"

"I don't even care. You could be an escaped con and I don't think it would matter. I'd still want you."

Hearing Harry's voice waiver towards the end was all Dean needed to hear to know he'd been forgiven for bailing on Harry that night at _Two of a Kind_. He knelt next to Harry and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I promise I'm not an ex-con or an axe-murderer, Harry," Dean whispered, morbidly wondering how Harry would feel about hunting as his professional occupation.

At first, Harry didn't respond. After a few minutes Dean felt Harry's arms tighten around his neck and lower back, being mindful of the new bandages.

"Just don't do it again, okay?"

"I promise."

"And Dean?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Happy Memorial Day."

* * *

_The End of August_

Harry handed Sam another box from the back of the van. Jess was already inside the house, unpacking the boxes the boys were steadily filling the home with. Sam's application for RL had been accepted and now the three of them were moving back in. Unlike the other off-campus residences, the RL had a home all to themselves instead of splitting it in half with someone else.

"This one says kitchen, I think," Harry said.

"Remind me again why we let you label the boxes, chicken-scratch?" Sam mocked his friend lightly.

"Because you're just the one who carries the heavy stuff, Bam-Bam," Harry shot back. Sam blushed and walked the box into the house.

Harry felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He slipped it out of his jeans and read over Dean's latest quiz. _Name the three most famous members of The Band._

Ever since Dean's mysterious injury on Memorial Day things had been steadily returning to normal between Harry and Dean. They'd even spent a month road tripping in the Impala over the summer. They'd also returned to having regular amounts of sex that didn't need magical enhancement, which pleased Harry to no end.

Maybe this year he'd actually get to introduce his housemates to his boyfriend… friend… whatever.

"You just going to sit there all day?" Jess yelled from the house. "Or are you actually going to bring in another box?"

"I'm coming!" Harry yelled back laughing. He grabbed a box at random and stacked a few smaller ones on top of it. As he climbed out of the back of the rented van his jean pants caught on a loose object and he tripped. The boxes he was carrying tumbled out of the open van door and onto the sidewalk.

"Shit," Harry muttered.

"You okay, dude?" Sam asked, already picking up the dislodged items. "Figures you'd wreck one of my boxes."

"Sorry," Harry apologized. He grabbed some of the loose papers and photos that had fallen to the ground first, just in case the wind picked up and sent the light-weight items flying.

Harry eye caught one of the images and his whole body went rigid.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked, realizing that his friend had stopped picking up the fallen items from the sidewalk.

"What is this picture of, Sam?" Harry asked, handing the photo to his friend.

Sam looked at the photo and Harry watched the wave of emotions that flickered over his friends face. Surprise, joy, guilt, anger, sadness… he witnessed them all.

"Sam?" Harry prodded. Sam looked up as if just realizing that Harry had asked him a question to begin with.

"It's my brother and I at a carnival when we were in High School," Sam explained.

Harry swallowed thickly. "I don't think you've ever mentioned having a brother before."

"We don't really get along. I haven't seen him in years, actually."

"I'm sorry," Harry replied, his throat going dry. "What did you say his name was again?"

"Dean," Sam answered, putting the picture back into the box. "His name is Dean."

* * *

Later that day Dean was taking a piss when his cell phone beeped at him. He recognized the unique pattern of musical notes that he had established was Harry's individual alert tone. He quickly shook Big Dean, and peeked at Harry's latest message.

_We need to talk, Dean. Call me ASAP. – H._

* * *

**Author's Note:** After re-reading this, I realized I've set up a kind of sexual tension thing between Jess and Harry with the whole "you know how much you mean to us" conversation. I'd just like to make it clear that Harry will only be with Dean as he is not attracted to girls in this story. If Sam were to make the offer… well that'd be a whole different story :) No, _literally_ that would be a different story. It's listed in my favorites under my good friend **scarletsptember**. Both her stories are really worthwhile… I should know, I beta for her.

Don't forget to REVIEW!!!


	6. Something Winchester This Way Comes

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

**Genre:** Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major **SLASH** themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry (except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1) and that JK Rowling never published Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone lol. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** I know the last two chapters have been extraordinarily long, but please don't be disappointed now that I've returned to a mostly normal length. A lot of background information needed to be established (such as an entire year's worth of Dean/Harry time) and took up a lot of space. Just know that with shorter chapters come faster updates. These 10,000 word chapters are taking me almost 2 weeks to write with my busy schedule. I think we'll all be much better off with this new system of 4,000 to 7,000 word chapters.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 5:**

"**Something Winchester Comes This Way"**

"You gave it to me real low,  
You gave me such a low blow.  
You caught me with my guard down,  
You floored me in the first round.  
Yeah, I'll get even with you,  
You'll get what's coming to you."

- Foreigner, _I'll Get Even With You_

PREVIOUSLY…

"_What is this picture of, Sam?" Harry asked, handing the photo to his friend._

_Sam looked at the photo and Harry watched the wave of emotions that flickered over his friends face. Surprise, joy, guilt, anger, sadness… he witnessed them all._

"_Sam?" Harry prodded. Sam looked up as if just realizing that Harry had asked him a question to begin with._

"_It's my brother and I at a carnival when we were in High School," Sam explained._

_Harry swallowed thickly. "I don't think you've ever mentioned having a brother before."_

"_We don't really get along. I haven't seen him in years, actually."_

"_I'm sorry," Harry replied, his throat going dry. "What did you say his name was again?"_

"_Dean," Sam answered, putting the picture back into the box. "His name is Dean."_

* * *

_Later that day Dean was taking a piss when his cell phone beeped at him. He recognized the unique pattern of musical notes that he had established was Harry's individual alert tone. He quickly shook Big Dean, and peeked at Harry's latest message._

_We need to talk, Dean. Call me ASAP. – H._

* * *

The house that Sam had been given as part of the perks of his signing on as an RL was quite nice… for college living anyways. Most of the other students that Sam was in charge of lived in smaller homes in the surrounding community.

Sam's RL house was a moderately sized colonial with 2 floors and a locked basement. The outside had some faded brick with white trimming. The bottom floor included a small half bathroom, a living room and dining room mixture, and a kitchen. The basement, which was opened with a silent _Alohomora_, was large enough to hold parties in.

The upstairs had three bedrooms, a full bathroom, and a hall closet. Since Sam and Jess were sharing a room, Harry thought it only fair to let them have the largest of the bedrooms. Harry took the second largest, and the third was used as a storage area for all of their extra belongings. It also helped matters that the two bedrooms being used were on opposite ends of the upstairs floor so that it was difficult for sound to carry. Harry certainly didn't want to listen in on whatever Sam and Jess got up to at night.

Harry was currently pleased that this distance covered up the sounds of his own sorrow at discovering the truth about Dean. Harry had never felt so alone since first arriving in his new world.

He had his friendships with Sam and Jessica, but Dean had become something more. Dean was the person he shared his stupid thoughts with. Dean was the person he trusted enough to be intimate with. What they had was beyond some crush or pretending that Dean was his boyfriend. It may not have been love, but it was damn close.

And Dean had blown it all to hell.

How could Dean have lied to him? How could he not have told him that Sam was related to him? How could Harry have been so blind?

Looking back Harry saw his "non-relationship" with Dean through a new set of lenses. Dean hadn't blown Harry off at the bar that night because he'd grown tired of him, he'd done it because Harry had brought Sam with him. Dean hadn't been looking for Harry last Halloween, he'd been passed out outside of the RA's room… Sam's room. Dean didn't seduce Harry the next morning, he'd distracted him from opening the door and letting Sam in the dorm room.

Harry's face went red in embarrassment. Dean must think he was the dumbest person in existence… and he wouldn't be wrong.

Harry sighed in defeat. Even in this new world he was going to lose the people he cared about. He would even be mistaken on who cared about him. They would always leave him. It was really just a matter of time.

If only he had Sirius back. Sirius would have known what to do… after punching Dean in the face a few times.

He looked up at the night sky and studied the curve of the pale moon over the horizon. Ever since he had arrived, Harry had established a tradition. Every full moon he would try to find his godfather.

_It's not quite the full moon,_ Harry thought_, but what better time to try?_

"Accio," Harry whispered. His wand erupted from its permanent hiding place beneath his floorboards. The wand felt good in his palm, the wood curving perfectly with the shape of his palm.

Harry had thought that it had been a blessing when Dumbledore had taught him wandless and wordless magic. It was a very awkward feat to keep a wand in your shoe or your butt pocket. It had been nice to work without its constant presence.

However, since discovering that his wand had not survived the transition between the veil and purgatory, he had missed it. He'd been forced to create one himself, even if he had to infuse some of his own magical core into the wood to make it function. Even if it would never work as well as his old wand, it was still a comfort at a time he was most vulnerable.

He let his hand fall flat and the wand go limp across his palm.

"_Point Me, Sirius Black,_" he intoned, as he had at every full moon over the years. The wand spun in circles for a few moments before Harry cancelled the spell.

Like every year, the wand never chose a direction. Harry didn't know if it was a problem with his make-shift wand, if it meant something had happened to Sirius, or something else entirely. All he knew was that he was more alone than ever.

And Dean had yet to call.

* * *

_Weston, Connecticut_

Dean eyed the payphone warily.

Harry's text message had set him on edge. Their usual communications were more playful and certainly not so direct. It was almost as if it were someone else entirely. It certainly wouldn't be the first time a demon had used such a tactic to draw a hunter in. His father had told him plenty of stories of good hunters who got attached to someone only to walk right into a trap.

"The only place for vigilance," his father had told him, "is where you feel the safest."

When he was with Harry he felt safe. Their road trip over the summer had been a godsend. Sure, it had been difficult to hunt with Harry so close but the rewards were certainly worth it. Having someone to come back to at the end of the night was nice. Having someone with whom you could work off the adrenaline rush of killing the supernatural with was satisfying. Having someone that could make you forget the horrors in your life was worth more to Dean than he had thought it would.

_Come on, Dean, don't back down now._

Dean picked up the handle of the payphone and slipped the proper change in. He dialed the number from memory and waited for the ringing to stop.

_Please don't be a demon, please don't be a demon, please don't be a demon._

"Hello?"

Dean couldn't help the slight warmth that spread through his stomach at the sound of Harry's voice. He sounded tired… and upset.

"Hey," Dean breathed into the mouthpiece, purposefully trying to disfigure his voice.

"Dean?" Harry asked. "Why aren't you calling from your cell phone? I almost didn't pick up."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you did, then," Dean replied, purposefully ignoring the question. He didn't want a demon tracking his phone… if it was a demon. _Please just be Harry._

"I'm glad you called."

"Of course you are."

"Don't do that, Dean," Harry snapped at him, clearly agitated.

"Do what?"

"Be suave or what not."

"It's just my natural Dean way, Harry."

"I know, I know," Harry said. "It's just… I just need you to be serious so we can talk. Can you do that?"

"Sure."

"Good."

Neither of them said anything, just let the air go silent between them. Eventually the automated message came on alerting Dean and Harry that more change would be needed to continue the connection.

"Shit," Harry cursed. "We've got to do this in person, Dean. You going to be in California anytime soon?"

"I was planning on visiting for Labor Day."

"Really?" Harry asked, warmth momentarily flooding his voice. "I didn't know."

"I only just officially got the time off yesterday," Dean explained. Dean's mind flashed on the fight he'd had with his father over getting the time to himself. John had not been pleased to be hunting alone again. Dean could tell his father, who so far had tried to be supportive, was starting to lose patience with Dean's increasing absences.

"Oh, well, can we just talk then?" Harry asked nervously. "I… we need to talk… in person."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Sure. Just tell me when and where."

* * *

_Labor Day_

As scared as Harry was to lose Dean, he was ashamed of how he'd chickened out during their phone conversation. He'd let Dean dictate too many of the terms. It had thrown him off that a random phone number had dialed his cell and that it had actually been Dean on the other end.

Now that Harry had let a few days go by, he'd let his anger overrun him.

Harry had asked Dean to come to the house that he shared with Jess and Sam to throw him off balance. Dean had agreed, albeit reluctantly, but Harry didn't reveal that he knew why Dean was so hesitant to visit the house.

An hour before their scheduled meeting time, Harry watched from his room as Dean's trademark Impala parked a block down the street. If Harry hadn't been waiting for Dean to make such a move, he probably never would have noticed the car's arrival.

"Harry!" Jess called from downstairs.

"What's up, Jess?" Harry asked, walking down the narrow staircase. Sam and Jess were already pulling on their coats. Harry had "surprised" them with free theatre tickets as his gift for putting up with his moodiness. It would keep them out of the house long enough for Harry and Dean to have their conversation.

Harry whistled in appreciation of how nice the pair looked. Sam blushed and Jess knocked him one on the shoulder.

"Ouch, is that how you thank someone for getting you theatre tickets?"

"We already thanked you, Harry," Sam reminded him with a grin. "Besides, I'm still not entirely convinced you did this out of the goodness of your heart."

"Oh?" Harry asked, trying to remain nonchalant.

Jess grinned and hooked her arm around Sam's. "Don't mess with his head, Sam. You know Harry has some second motive that he's not telling us about."

"No I don't," Harry responded quickly. "Can't I just do something nice for my friends?"

"Sure," Sam said with a shrug. "Just don't burn down the house."

Jess gave him a quick hug, before adding, "and don't forget the emergency contact list on the fridge."

Harry whacked them both. "Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad."

"Be good, son," Jess and Sam said at the same time before closing the door behind them.

Harry waited until he heard Jess's car start before dashing out of the hallway. He had no idea if Dean would wait until the actual meeting time or arrive earlier once seeing that Sam and Jess had left the house.

Harry had to prepare.

* * *

Dean guided the Impala into an open spot on the street approximately a block away from the colonial house that Harry had described. He figured that this would give him as much distance as he could get without losing sight of the house. Dean had to be sure that Sammy wasn't in the house.

He only had to wait fifteen minutes before he saw an attractive blonde and his brother leave the house. Their arms were locked together until they reached the car. Dean felt his breathing increase and his heart speed up. This was the closest he'd been to his brother in almost a year.

Dean was pleased at how good Sam looked. His already giant of a brother had defied gravity even more and somehow managed to get even taller. Sam still let his bangs grow out, but Dean doubted that would ever change. Even when they were little Sam had liked the ability to hide his eyes in his fringe, usually to keep their father from seeing how scared or tired he was.

There was something else that Dean noticed about Sam: his smile. It hurt Dean to see how happy his younger brother had become. He took in his brother's smile and knew that Sam was genuinely happy. This new life of his was better for him than what he grew up with. Dean wanted Sam to be happy, but damn if it didn't irk him that Sam could so easily move past his family… past his big brother.

He ducked as their car passed, hoping to God that Sam had been too distracted to notice the Impala on the street.

Dean waited a few minutes before he turned off the radio and climbed out of the Impala. He locked the door behind him and headed up the street, surveying the houses for signs of threat.

Dean had confided in his father that his "girlfriend" had sounded a little off. John himself had suggested some kind of trap, but Dean refused to bring him along. He'd even dumped his cell phone in case his Dad tried to track him with it. Hopefully Harry wouldn't mind having to memorize yet another new number to reach him at.

Dean brushed his hand against the flask in his inner pocket. He'd taken precautions just in case Harry wasn't acting of his own accord. Dean was fairly confident that his nerves were just letting him read into the situation.

Before he knew it, Dean had reached the front door. He eyed the doorbell for a moment before jabbing his index finger into it. His other hand gripped the pure silver penknife in his jacket pocket.

"Come in! It's open!" Harry's voice announced from somewhere within the house.

Dean frowned at the trusting nature of his friend for leaving the front door to the house unlocked when clearly he was home alone. Any random criminal could come in, let alone a demon or something equally as wicked.

Dean let himself in and surveyed the moderate living quarters. There was a small stand at the base of the staircase that had several pictures. The one that caught his eye was of Sam and Harry at a football game wearing Saints uniforms.

"That's my housemate Sam," Harry explained, walking in from the other end of the narrow hallway.

Dean smiled at him. "Wasn't he your RA or something last year?"

Harry smiled in response and leaned in towards Dean. Dean was surprised when Harry turned in to his shoulder for a hug instead of accepting a kiss. He covered it well and hugged his friend tightly.

"You have a good memory," Harry whispered into his ear.

Dean sniffed at the air. "Are you cooking?"

"Special occasion," Harry explained, leading Dean back down the hallway in the direction he had just entered from.

"Anything good, Martha Stewart?" Dean teased as they entered the kitchen. Dean could tell why Harry liked living in the house; the kitchen was a nice size for the house. There was an island where Harry could prepare food and enough countertop and stoves to prepare. Dean loved Harry's cooking because it always reminded him of what eating at home was like when his mother was still alive.

"Nothing fancy," Harry responded, tending to a boiling saucepan on the stove. "How have you been, Dean?"

"Fine, busy traveling. Glad to be here, especially since I'm starving."

"Hope you're not too hungry, Dean. I'm not sure how much we'll have."

Dean looked from Harry to the massive amounts of food being prepared and then returned his gaze to Harry. "There must be a whole feast here!"

Harry eyed him for a moment before turning back to the stove. From over his shoulder he said casually, "Well Jess and Sam are going to eat with us, too."

Dean tried to swallow the panic within him. God, couldn't Harry hear his heart pounding away in his chest? Was he trying to give him a heart attack? "Oh?" he croaked out, grimacing when his voice caught. "I didn't know they were here."

"Well they're not here now," Harry clarified. "They just went out to get some dessert for us. They'll be back soon."

"Great."

"Don't worry so much, Dean," Harry reassured him, smiling brightly, "Sam and Jess are going to love you. I think you'll really like Sam."

"Oh, really?"

Harry eyed him hard, "Don't you trust me, Dean?"

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak aloud. Harry smiled and turned back to preparing the meal.

"You got a crapper in this place?"

Harry laughed at Dean's random vulgarity and pointed down the hall. Dean let himself out of the room and made his way to the bathroom. Once inside he splashed water on his face and eyed the mirror above the sink.

"You can do this, Dean," he told his reflection confidently. "You can figure a way out of this dinner. We've done it before, we can do it again."

* * *

"Did Harry seem a little off to you tonight?" Jess asked Sam as they drove down the highway.

Sam shrugged at the wheel. "No one is harder to read than Harry, Jess. You know that."

Jess nodded and let the sound of the radio fill the car again. Sam eyed her crossed arms and the way she was gazing out the window.

"You really that concerned?" he asked her.

"Not worried, per se. Just… uneasy," she clarified, turning towards Sam. "It was just so last minute that he got these tickets. It was like he really was trying to get rid of us for the night or something."

"You really care about him, don't you?" Sam asked her.

"Of course," Jess answered immediately. "And so do you. We have other friends Sam, but Harry is special. I know you know that as well. He's your best friend."

Sam nodded. "So what do you want to do? Skip the show?"

"I don't know. If he wanted us out of the house that badly, wouldn't it be worse to wreck whatever schemes he's got going on?"

"We're already halfway there," Sam added.

"I guess to the show we go then."

They drove for a few more miles before Sam suddenly took an exit off of the highway.

"What are you doing?" Jess asked. "This isn't the right exit, Sam."

"I know, but… something's bugging me, Jess."

"Me, too."

The car accelerated as they arched back the way they came… back to Harry and Dean.

* * *

As soon as Dean returned from the bathroom, Harry could tell that his plan to unsettle Dean was working. Dean was a few shades paler and had obviously become distracted. _Serves him right_, Harry thought to himself.

He smiled at Dean as he poured him another shot of vodka.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Dean shook his head, "No, must have been something I ate on the road. Maybe I shouldn't stay for dinner after all?"

"Nice try, buster," Harry replied. "You're not getting out of this dinner that easily. Especially not if you want dessert."

"Dessert?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry smirked at him from across the table.

"You know what I mean."

"I've always been one for dessert before the meal," said Dean suggestively.

"I remember." Harry tried to keep the smirk off his face, but he couldn't help it. Even if Dean had lied to him, he was always going to find the man completely irresistible.

Dean seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he moved his chair closer to Harry's.

"Dean, wait," Harry warned, "they'll be back soon."

Dean took Harry's wrist and raised it to his mouth. "Forget them, let's go back to my motel room and have some fun."

Harry yanked his arm from Dean's grasp before Dean could kiss it. _That's why Dean wanted "dessert", to get away from Sam and Jess?_

Harry's hurt and anger overwhelmed him and, before he could stop himself, he asked, "Is that why you want me so bad all of a sudden, Dean? To distract me from dinner?"

"What?" Dean asked, playing dumb. "I just meant we could always do dinner with your housemates another time."

"We could also go fuck any other time!"

"Why are you getting so upset, Harry? It was just a suggestion."

"Tell me the truth, Dean," Harry snarled. "Just once, tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth."

"Liar."

"What is wrong with you?" Dean asked, already reaching for the flask of holy water in his breast pocket.

"You!" Harry yelled. "You're what's wrong with me! I thought you wanted me, cared for me."

"I do, Harry," Dean snapped, "just not when you're possessed."

With that, Dean threw the contents of the flask into Harry's face. Harry had been so surprised by Dean's statement that his mouth had opened to ask what the hell Dean was talking about. Harry coughed as the liquid entered his mouth.

Dean's eyes went wide as he saw that the holy water had no effect on his friend. Harry wasn't possessed. Harry was still human. Dean had just splashed holy water on Harry, and he was supposed to explain this how?

Before either man could react, they heard the sound of car doors closing in the driveway. Harry ran to the living room and opened a sliver in the blinds to look outside. He swallowed quickly as he spotted Sam and Jess making their way to the front door.

"It's Sam and Jess," Harry announced as he reentered the kitchen. Dean was sitting at the table drinking directly from the vodka bottle. Harry took one look at the resigned look on Dean's face before he took action. He knew that whatever had happened to separate the Winchester brothers was not going to be resolved by Sam discovering that his brother was fucking his best friend behind his back.

He cast a wandless sticking spell on the door to hold his housemates off. He grabbed one of Dean's arms and hauled the man out of the chair.

"Harry, I can't," Dean started to beg.

"I know, Dean."

"No, you don't. I can't explain, but I need to leave."

"No, Dean Winchester, _you_ don't know."

Dean stopped cold in the hallway. He looked at Harry in panic and then in suspicion.

"How did you know my name?" Dean demanded.

Harry put a hand over Dean's mouth and shushed him. They heard the distinct noise of Sam's keys in the lock and then Jess inquiring what was taking so long.

"Trust me," Harry ordered him and began leading him upstairs, avoiding the creaky steps.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked indignantly.

"To my room," Harry explained. "You can hide there."

Harry pushed his door open with his foot and shoved Dean inside. He stripped off his shirt and pants and chucked them at Dean, leaving himself in just his boxers. He took the towel from its hanging spot behind the door.

"Stay here and be quiet," Harry ordered before closing the door in Dean's face and walking back downstairs.

Dean put his ear up against Harry's door.

* * *

Harry wrapped the towel around his waist and cast a few rinsing spells at himself. Dean had already gotten him wet with the liquid in his flask, so Harry figured he'd put it to good use. He gripped the door handle and released the spell.

"What are guys doing back so early?" he asked, trying to sound surprised.

Jess and Sam took in the sight of Harry having clearly just emerged from the shower. They looked at each other and then back at Harry, neither sure what to say. They had expected some kind of party to be going on, or some ill intentioned meeting… anything to signify why Harry had arranged for them to be out of the house.

But Harry appeared to be just fine.

"Forgot the tickets," Jess said suddenly.

Harry nodded and moved aside to let them in. Jess went up the stairs to pretend to get the tickets. Sam stayed downstairs with Harry.

Harry looked at Sam expectantly.

Sam shrugged. "Women."

* * *

Dean stood up as soon as Harry reentered the room.

"They're gone," Harry explained. "They forgot the theatre tickets I got for them."

"Theatre tickets?" Dean asked, antipathy lacing his voice, "I'd forget them, too."

Harry chuckled.

"I thought you said they were out getting dessert?" Dean inquired, suspicion returning to his voice.

"I lied," Harry replied honestly. "I was trying to freak you out. They were never supposed to actually show up."

"So what did you expect to happen when they were late for dinner?"

"I expected, or rather I _hoped_, that you'd be honest with me. I thought that if you thought Sam was about to barge in that you'd come clean."

"Why?" Dean asked, clearly upset. "Why would you do that to me?"

"Because you lied to me!" Harry shot back. "How could you never mention that you were Sam's brother? You really thought he'd never let something slip?"

"Of course I did!" Dean bellowed. "I worried about it every time I left you and hit the road. What if you mentioned meeting me? What if you told him about what we do together? What if Sam asked about me? It was all I could think of!"

"Than why keep lying?" Harry asked, hurt underlying his words. "Why not trust me?"

"I don't trust anybody, Harry," Dean said. "Not even you."

Dean watched as Harry shut down before him, watched as his words turned his friend against him. Harry sat on his bed, afraid that his legs might give out beneath him.

"Did you ever care about me, Dean?"

Dean hated the defeat in Harry's voice. "Of course I did. Why else would I risk coming into contact with Sam so often?"

Dean sighed and sat down next to Harry, waiting to see if Harry would move away from him or tell Dean to leave. Harry did neither, instead pulling Dean down onto the bed. Harry snuggled into Dean's side.

"So what do we do now?" Harry asked, stumbling over how to categorize their non-relationship. "Do we stay… the same, or do we… stop?"

"Do you want to stop?" Dean asked, not answering the question.

"I don't."

"Me neither."

"But I can't lie to Sam, Dean." Harry looked up at Dean. "He's my best friend, Dean. If we go forward, I won't lie anymore."

"You know the saddest part?" Dean asked into Harry's hair. "All my life I've always put Sam first. Now, I finally meet someone who knows what that's like, someone who puts Sam's needs first, someone who can understand me, and we can't be together anymore… _because_ we have to put Sam first."

"That's fucked up, Dean," Harry said, holding on tighter to Dean.

"Welcome to my world."

"What happened between you and Sam?" Harry asked.

"I don't talk about it, Harry."

"Neither does Sam. If I hadn't seen your picture, I never would have connected the dots."

"He has a picture of me?" Dean asked, that warm feeling in his stomach returning. He felt Harry nod against his chest.

"I've got one, too," Dean confided. "Want to see it?"

Harry shifted so that Dean could reach his wallet. Dean pulled out a picture of Sam at his graduation, dressed in a blue gown and grinning proudly.

"That's my brother, the egghead."

Harry laughed. "I take it school wasn't your first priority?"

"Nope," said Dean proudly. "I had other interests."

"Chicks, obviously. They must really have dug the whole bad boy thing."

"They're not the only ones," Dean said pointedly. Harry poked him in the side in retaliation.

"You picked _me_ up, remember?"

"I remember," Dean said quietly. He tightened his hold on Harry.

"Tonight's it, isn't it?" Harry asked. "For us, I mean."

Dean sighed. "Unless you want to lie to Sam."

"Or if you would patch things up with your brother, Dean."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dean apologized sincerely. "I seriously doubt my brother's interested in anything I'd have to say. Besides, he's better off without me."

"You weren't there when I found that picture, Dean," Harry argued gently. "He obviously still loves you. And you obviously care about him."

"I can't, Harry."

"Okay," Harry said, letting the matter drop. "We still have tonight, though, right?"

"Of course."

* * *

The next morning, Harry kept his eyes closed as he came into consciousness. Harry knew what the morning would bring. Dean would leave and Harry would go back to a life without him.

But as long as Harry's eyes were closed it was still their time together. He tried to memorize each detail of their final moments together. The way their skin clung together, combined by their sizzling body heats. The feeling of Dean's breath on his bare shoulder. The way that Big Dean rested against the curve of his ass.

He'd expected last night to be a blaze of frantic passion, but they had drawn it out all night. Harry hadn't used any magic to accomplish the task either; he'd wanted to experience Dean as naturally as possible. It wasn't fucking, it was making love in a way that Harry had never experienced before.

Harry didn't realize he was crying until Dean wiped a stray tear from his eye.

"Good morn-" Dean began to say, before Harry put a hand over his mouth.

"Don't say it," Harry warned. "We still have time this way."

Harry still refused to open his eyes so he didn't remove his hand until he felt Dean nod against his palm. Harry turned his body around and they hugged each other in the bed until Harry regained control of himself.

He didn't want this to be their goodbye. He didn't want Dean to leave without giving him something to remember him by. Harry was suddenly struck by an idea.

Dean felt Harry kiss a trail down to his chest. He sucked in a lungful of breath as Harry latched on to one of his overly sensitive nipples. Harry sucked as if his life depended on it and Dean groaned. Harry continued to tease and manipulate the flesh until he'd left a bright hickey around the right nipple.

Big Dean had been awakened and for the last time Dean took Harry.

It was desperate.

It was frantic.

It was goodbye.

* * *

ONE YEAR LATER…

A buzzing sound erupted in Harry's left ear, awakening him immediately. It was the proximity alert that meant someone had crossed the threshold of the house.

Harry whipped out of bed, clad only in his boxers, and apparated silently downstairs to the living area. He quickly disillusioned himself and waited for the intruder to step into the room.

A few seconds later a shadow crept into the room. Harry pounced immediately, cancelling the invisibility charm, the element of surprise giving him an unfair advantage. The intruder was helpless against the onslaught of punches, only managed to get a few sharp jabs in but never enough to put Harry on the defensive.

A stray beam of moonlight illuminated the face of the intruder and Harry's whole body froze in surprise. The intruder didn't waste a moment of Harry's inaction before taking control of the situation. Harry soon found himself beneath the intruder.

"Dean?" he whispered in surprise.

The living room lights flickered on and Harry got a good look at the man he'd let go of a year ago. Dean's arm was raised as if he were about to hit Harry. Dean lowered the arm immediately but he still wasn't smiling at Harry. His face was completely blank.

"Dean?" this time it was someone else who had called Dean's name.

Harry looked at the doorway and saw Sam and Jess standing there. Jess looked horrified and Sam looked ashamed.

"Harry, you okay?" Sam asked looking at his best friend.

Dean slowly climbed off of Harry. Harry held out a hand to Dean, but the older man ignored it. Harry grunted and pushed himself off the ground.

"Nice attack dog you've got, Sam," Dean said sarcastically.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked, not sparing any time to deal with Dean's bullshit. Normally Harry might have been more sympathetic to Dean, but not when he was being a jerk.

"You know this man, Sam?" Jess asked, her engagement ring catching the living room light. Harry saw that Dean's eyes had caught the reflection of light, but that he wasn't going to comment on the engagement. Dean did throw him a glance though as if to see Harry's reaction to the ring.

Harry gave a slight shrug in response. Harry was happy for his friends, and proud that Sam had finally gotten the balls to ask Jess to marry him.

"Yeah, Jess," Sam answered. "He's my brother Dean."

"And you are?" Dean asked Jess. Harry frowned, realizing that Dean had to pretend that he didn't already know this information. Merlin knows Harry only spoke about Sam and Jess to Dean a million times before this.

"None of your business, Dean," Sam broke in, before Jess could introduce herself.

Harry knew that Jess wouldn't like that one bit, and wasn't the least bit surprised when Jess walked around Sam and shook Dean's hand. "I'm Jess, Sam's fiancé."

"Fiancé?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised in question. "Congrats, Sam. Though, I think she's way out of your league, Sammy-boy."

"What the hell are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked impatiently.

"Looking for a beer?" Dean quipped.

Harry took one from the fridge and tossed it to Dean. Dean took the beer and nodded towards him in thanks, but didn't inquire after his name.

"I'm Harry, by the way," Harry said grumpily, not liking that Dean was so pointedly ignoring him.

"Where?" Dean joked. Harry glowered at him.

"Dean, it's late and I'm tired." Sam said angrily. "Just tell me what you want."

Dean gave Sam a frustrated look, before pointedly looking at Jess and Harry.

"Dad's on a _hunting_ trip, Sam," he explained, slowly, "and he hasn't been home in a few days."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** There's so much more I wanted to do with the back-story, but it was taking forever. So I apologize if this chapter seems a little rushed, but I was impatient to get to the good stuff with hunting and all that.

I received a lot of questions about Sirius and his part in the story. Sirius will play a major role in this story but not in the way most of you are envisioning. I can't say more without giving it away, but you'll understand before the end of this story. Remember also, that this is just the first of five stories in this series. Hopefully I've given a hint in this chapter as to what role he'll play. Guesses and conjecture are welcome!

Also, I like cliffhangers so expect more of them in the future. Next update will be this weekend. The more reviews, the faster the chapter goes up. And, yes, that was a bribe :)


	7. Dial M for Missing

**Disclaimer:**Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize and is original material is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews! As promised, the chapter is up a little early. This chapter is dedicated to all those who helped us break the 200 review point! I decided to post this on Thanksgiving Day for a couple reasons but basically because everyone needs a small escape from reality (and their families) today. I hope you take this as an opportunity to do just that :) Check out the Author's Note at the bottom for TONS more information.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 6:  
"****Dial M for Missing"**

"There is no hiding place,  
nowhere to go, nowhere is safe.  
There is no hiding place.  
There is nowhere safe,  
to disappear without a trace.  
There is no hiding place."

- Foreigner, _No Hiding Place_

PREVIOUSLY…

"_What the hell are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked impatiently._

"_Looking for a beer?" Dean quipped._

_Harry took one from the fridge and tossed it to Dean. Dean took the beer and nodded towards him in thanks, but didn't inquire after his name._

"_I'm Harry, by the way," Harry said grumpily, not liking that Dean was so pointedly ignoring him._

"_Where?" Dean joked. Harry glowered at him._

"_Dean, it's late and I'm tired." Sam said angrily. "Just tell me what you want."_

_Dean gave Sam a frustrated look, before pointedly looking at Jess and Harry._

"_Dad's on a hunting trip, Sam," he explained, slowly, "and he hasn't been home in a few days."_

* * *

Harry and Jess watched from the kitchen as Sam and Dean spoke outside.

"I wish I could read lips," Jess joked. She handed Harry a cup of coffee, which he accepted gratefully.

"Looks like we won't have to wait much longer," Harry said, nodding towards the Winchester brothers. Jess watched with interest as the pair reentered the house.

"Jess," Sam greeted warmly, "could I talk to you for a minute?"

Jess sent a questioning look at Harry, who nodded at her reassuringly, before following Sam into the living room. This left Dean and Harry alone in the kitchen.

"So…" Harry started, trying to break the awkward tension.

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly, shaking out his coat.

"How have you been?" Harry asked.

"From five minutes ago?" Dean asked, confused.

Suddenly the awkward tension Harry had felt dissolved, and he was left with that anger at Dean again. He picked up a wet sponge and chucked it Dean's head.

Dean plucked the sponge out of the air.

"Did you just throw a sponge at me?" Dean asked incredulously.

They stared at each other for a minute before bursting out laughing. Harry didn't realize how much he'd missed seeing Dean's genuine smile. It was so much wider than his fake ones, and his laugh was always so deep.

"You are such a dick," Harry said lightly.

"Says the guy who threw a wet sponge at me."

"Says the guy who pretended not to know me."

Dean had the sense to look slightly abashed.

"So what's up with your Dad?" Harry continued, pressing his luck on getting answers out of Dean.

"Just out hunting," Dean said, tossing the sponge back to Harry. "Probably got turned around. I just need some help tracking him down is all."

"So Sam is going with you," Harry said in what could have been a question, but both of them knew it wasn't.

"As long as the ball and chain lets him out."

"Jess is very sweet," Harry corrected Dean.

"Sure."

Sam and Jess reentered the kitchen. Harry looked Jess over and noticed that she was gripping Sam's hand tightly.

_Guess he decided to go,_ Harry concluded.

Dean apparently came to the same conclusion.

"Great," Dean smirked, taking out his car keys and brushing past the group, "let's hit the road already."

"I guess I'll go get packed," Sam said to Harry and Jess.

"I'll come help," Jess offered, following him out of the room.

Instead of following his housemates upstairs, Harry tracked Dean out to the Impala.

"Hey, Dean," Harry said, catching his attention.

"What's up, Harry?"

Harry stalked up to Dean and put himself in the older man's personal space. For a moment Dean panicked as he thought that Harry was going to try to kiss him outside of the house.

"Harry, we're in the open here…" Dean warned.

"Shut up," Harry said, pushing Dean against the Impala and holding him there with his hands. "I know we have history, and you know how much you mean to me…"

Dean looked like he was about to say something in response, so Harry cut in front of him, "…BUT, if you get Sam hurt in any way, that includes emotional hurt, I'll hurt you back."

Dean smirked, "Oh, really?"

"I didn't have a problem getting the drop on you earlier," Harry said pointedly.

"That's because you jumped me," Dean corrected. "In a fair fight, I'd win."

Harry leaned so close to him that Dean could feel the younger man's breath intermingling with his own.

"Since when do I play fair, Dean?"

Harry wordlessly cast the tracking charm that Albus had taught him during the war.

The spell traveled through his palm and fingertips, which is why he had them grip Dean's shoulders so tightly. The spell showed itself in purple light, so by keeping his hand flat against Dean, it made sure that no light escaped and alerted Dean. All he would feel is a slight increase in heat, which, presumably, he'd attribute to something else entirely.

Dean watched Harry walk back into the house, suddenly reminded of how much Big Dean had missed Harry's swagger.

* * *

THE NEXT NIGHT…

_Jericho, California_

Dean peered over the edge of the bridge into the black river below.

The brothers had tracked their father to Jericho, California. That was the last case Dean remembered their father looking into. If they were going to hunt their father, they needed to find what the man was hunting. Even if it meant solving a rash of missing persons involving lone men disappearing in middle-of-nowhere California.

"So this is where Constance took her swan dive," Dean joked.

"Not funny, Dean," Sam replied grumpily. "The woman drowned her kids and then jumped from a bridge."

"Not my fault she turned into an angry spirit then is it?" Dean countered.

"I already told you, Dean," Sam ground out through gritted teeth. "Dad's notes said she was a Lady in White."

"Big difference."

"Yes, actually, there is."

"Whatever," Dean muttered. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Sam looked around the bridge. "So we're here, now what do we do?"

"Relax, Sammy," Dean instructed, "it'll come back to you. You just need time to get back into hunting mode."

"No need to go into hunting mode, Dean. I'm only here until Monday."

"Monday. Right. The interview."

"Yes, Dean, for my interview."

Dean turned away from Sam so that he couldn't see the disgust on his face. Hadn't Sam learned by now? Hunters were hunters, there was no going back. There was no new life, no fresh starts, and no happily ever after. Jessica wouldn't make Sam happy because he'd always have to hide a part of himself. Just like Harry could never know or understand about Dean's real job.

It was just better to get real and move on.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you, Sammy?" Dean asked, his frustration boiling over. If Sam hadn't figured out the truth about his life then it was up to his big brother to set him straight. "You think you're going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl and set off into the sunset?"

"Maybe. Why not, Dean?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you?" Dean questioned. "I mean, does she know about the things you've done? Who you really are?"

"No, and she's never going to know."

Dean smirked. "Well that's really healthy. You can pretend all you want, little brother, but sooner or later you're going to have to realize who and what you really are."

"Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil," Sam replied sarcastically. "What gives you the right to be relationship expert for hunters all of a sudden? Last I checked you didn't stay with the same girl long enough to remember her name, let alone consider telling her who you are."

"So what?"

"So don't give advice on relationships until you've been in one, Dean."

"You haven't been on the road with me in years, Sammy," Dean replied without thinking. "What makes you think I haven't found someone?" Dean closed his mouth as soon as he was done talking. His mouth had jumped ahead of his brain; he wasn't ever going to tell Sam about Harry.

Sam studied his brother carefully. "You're right, Dean. I was out of line to suggest that you couldn't have met someone worth while. I'm sorry."

Dean shrugged. "Whatever, let's just skip the chick-flick moment, okay?"

They let the silence settle between them as they let their tempers cool.

"Dean…"

"Enough, Sam. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean snapped.

Sam pointed over his shoulder. Dean turned and felt a sudden chill in his chest as he spotted the ghostly figure of a woman standing on the railing of the bridge. Before either of them could make a move, the woman let herself fall from the bridge and down into the darkness below.

"Well, that was… anticlimactic," Dean commented.

"Seriously."

The engine of Dean's car suddenly turned on, quickly followed by the headlights.

"Damn it, I knew I spoke too soon."

"Dean, who is driving your car?"

Dean's hand gripped the keys in his pockets and the chill in his stomach intensified. He held out the keys to Sam as if to demonstrate exactly _what_ was controlling the beautiful Impala.

The car sprang into motion, each headlight trained dangerously on one of the brothers as if to highlight the Impala's deadly trajectory. Dean and Sam turned and began to run for the edge of the bridge. Dean heard the squealing of tires approaching rapidly and knew that they couldn't outrun his baby. Lord knows Dean had run down enough creatures with the machine to know how much damage the car could do to its victim.

Dean tapped Sam quickly on the shoulder and headed for the side of the bridge instead. Hoping that Sam had followed his lead, Dean jumped for the edge. Dean felt the air pulse around his body before hitting the water in the world's most painful belly flop.

Dean waited for gravity to stop dragging him deeper into the river. As soon as he felt he was back in control of his momentum, he began to swim vigorously for the surface. He broke through the water's surface and swallowed as much air as he could fill his lungs with.

"Dean!" He heard Sam yell frantically from somewhere above him. "Dean!"

_How the hell did he manage to stay on the bridge?_

"What!?!" Dean yelled as his weak body climbed the muddy bank of the river. He'd never understand why any woman would pay so much money for a mud facial. The one he was getting was worth money to avoid, not receive.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm super!" Dean laughed hoarsely. "Like a day at the spa."

_That Constance chick is so dead_.

* * *

From the shadows of the tree line surrounding the river Meg observed the Winchester brothers. If this was what her father was up against than Azazel should be less worried.

She clicked open her cell phone and dialed her brother's number.

"It's me," Meg said lowly into the receiver.

"And?" her brother asked, the voice of the body he was currently residing in had a deep timber.

"Father's plan worked," Meg reported, pushing a stray strand of brown hair out of her eyesight. She really needed to dye it blond and give it a cut. "I followed the brothers to John Winchester but he'd already taken off."

"Did they find the colt?"

"No," Meg responded. "However, big Winchester did leave his journal behind. Father's bait must have been very appetizing to cause him to take off so suddenly."

"Good."

"What should I do about the brothers?" Meg asked, already loosening the hunting knife from her ankle holster. "Or rather, Dean, since father will get upset if I kill little Sammy."

"Just keep on them. Do whatever you need to do to slow them down," he ordered. "See if they lead you directly to the gun. If they do, kill John and Dean and get the colt. Not in that order, of course."

Meg's face twitched in anger and impatience. "I thought we were supposed to be separating Sam from all of his little friends?"

"We are."

"Than why can't I see what Dean Winchesters' insides look like in the moonlight?" Meg asked. "If their anything like the outsides, they sure will be pretty."

She heard her brother exhale in exasperation. "Because father says it's not yet time for that."

"What about the nice fiancée and his foreign roommate?"

"My dear sister," her brother mocked, "you are a bloodthirsty little thing, aren't you?"

"Fuck you."

"Dean's decision to pull his brother away from Stanford has given us an unforeseen opportunity to accelerate things."

"What opportunity?"

"With little Sammy gone from Stanford, there's no risk of contact between father and his half-breed runt."

"So?"

"So," her brother explained impatiently, "father's going to take care of things while Sammy's away."

"Does he need any help?" she asked, looking for any opportunity to get some action.

"He's father," her brother explained simply. "He doesn't need help."

Meg heard the connection die. She looked back at the bridge just in time to see the Impala's taillights disappear into the woods beyond.

So her job was to slow them down? Fine, she could do that.

_I wonder if the locals have figured out that the brothers aren't marshals yet? Maybe someone should give them an anonymous tip? After all, I'm just doing her civic duty._

Meg grinned into the darkness and headed for the nearest payphone.

* * *

_Stanford University, California_

Jess hung up her cell phone and chucked the phone onto the chair beside the bed.

"Did you get a hold of Sam yet?" Harry asked as he stepped into Sam and Jess's bedroom. He handed her one of the two cups of hot chocolate he'd brought with him. He drank from the other one.

"Thanks, Harry," Jess said, taking the warm cup. "I got the voicemail again. I asked him to call me back. Not that he has the other times I've left a message."

"He'll call," Harry assured her.

Jess smiled at him. Harry had always been a good friend for Sam and Jess. They filled various roles for each other. When one was angry with another in their group, it ensured that there was always a third person there to set them straight. Harry was like a younger brother to Sam and solved his need for male amiability.

"I'm worried, Harry," Jess confided, "but I don't know why."

"Yes, you do."

Jess looked Harry in the eye. Of course, Harry would know what she was feeling since he was going through the same thing. Sam was always so secretive about his family, never willing to share with them. Not that Harry was anymore forthcoming but at least he spoke about the abuse he'd endured with his Aunt and Uncle after his parents died. Once, Jess had managed to get Sam to tell her he had a brother. Other than that…

"What if what he's always kept from us gets him hurt?" Jess asked worriedly.

"The big family secret," Harry agreed. "Think he was abused?"

"I'd think he would have told us when you did," Jess suggested.

"True," Harry acknowledged. "But there's something different about the Winchester Family, Jess. Something they keep buried no matter what."

Jess picked up the phone and dialed Sam again.

* * *

_Interview Room, Jericho Police Department_

As Dean tapped the table in front of him, he wondered if Sam had gotten out of the motel in time. The local PD had shown up at the motel so suddenly that he'd only barely had enough time to call and warn him. As it was they'd managed to nab Dean right away.

He supposed that if the cops had caught Sam, they would have hauled him into the same room as Dean. Jericho, California wasn't a large town and most likely wouldn't be able to afford several interrogation rooms in their police station. Plus their cops sucked.

_Speaking of which…_

Dean smiled at the officer sitting across the table from him.

The officer grunted at him in response. "Don't know what you're grinning at boy. You and your _partners_ are the prime suspects in at least a dozen missing persons cases."

"Innocent until proven guilty and all that right?"

"There ain't nothing innocent about this hoo-doo shit," the officer commented, tossing John's journal across the table. The journal, which housed all of Dean's father's notes and experiences with the supernatural, fell open to a page on demonic worship.

"I have no idea what that is."

"We'll see."

Dean was saved from replying by another officer rushing in.

"We've got a 911 report of weapons fire at Whitehall Road!"

The officer that was interrogating Dean turned back to him. "You got to go to the bathroom?"

Dean looked at him in confusion. "No."

"Good." The officer cuffed his right hand to the chair and then left with his buddy.

Dean eyed the paperclip in his father's journal. He checked the doorway to make sure no one was watch him before snatching the paperclip. A minute later and he was free and already stealthily moving towards the side exit of the building.

He gently tucked John's journal into his inner coat pocket.

_Stupid cops_.

* * *

_Stanford University, California_

"Why don't you take a warm bath?" Harry suggested, tired of watching Jess fidget. "That always helps you relax, right?"

Harry and Jess had just finished a marathon of _3__rd__ Rock From the Sun_ episodes, which had always cheered Jess up in the past. However, this had not been one of those times.

"Yeah, sure."

"His interview is tomorrow, Jess," Harry added, trying to comfort her. "He wouldn't miss that."

"I also thought he'd call me 48 hours and 8 messages ago, Harry," Jess said sadly, climbing the stairs.

As soon as Harry heard the plumbing groan he began to pack up the mess they'd made. He stacked the glasses and empty bottles into the popcorn bowls and carried them into the kitchen.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and dropped the dishes into the sink. Harry hadn't had that feeling of an itch on the back of his neck since the war. Albus had told him it was his magic trying to warn him about some threat. Like the proximity alert spell he'd used to catch Dean a few days ago, but on an instinctual level. Harry ignored the itch.

_There was no threat here though… right?_

The lights in the house went out. The residence was plunged into darkness. Outside the kitchen window, the wind had picked up. The branches of the dead tree outside scratched wickedly against the windows. The ceiling fan in the kitchen began to spin… while the power was still out.

Upstairs, Jess screamed.

Harry felt his magic come alive. He didn't even bother running for the stairs. Instead, he found himself instinctually apparating through the ceiling and landing in the bedroom. He froze for a moment as he registered what he saw.

Ever since arriving in this new world Harry had sought out the magical world to no avail. It had always been his theory that Sirius had chosen a world without anything magical. Clearly Harry had been wrong, or else what he had become a witness to had no explanation.

Jess was pinned against the far wall, literally levitating upwards towards the ceiling. A man in a long black coat was watching, no, _controlling_ her movement. The intruder turned towards him and Harry was staring into eyes more yellow than Madam Hooch's. The eyes dilated and suddenly Harry found himself thrown up against one of the bedroom walls.

Harry's mind unfroze when Jess screamed again, obviously panicked and in pain. Harry sent a burst of pure magical force at the intruder. Caught off guard, the intruder was thrown through the open window and onto the back yard below. Jess and Harry collapsed onto the bedroom floor.

"Jess?" Harry asked, crawling across the bedroom to his friend.

"What was that thing?"

"I don't know, but we're getting out of here."

Harry grabbed Jess and helped her to her feet. They ran for the bedroom door but it slammed shut in front of them. Harry felt the tickle at the back of his neck and pulled Jess to the floor with him. A moment later and the dresser that had been flying towards them would have crushed them against the door.

The intruder reappeared in front of the window.

"No one is going anywhere," the intruder said, yellow eyes glowing.

"What is it with evil freaks and glowing eyeballs?" Harry asked from the floor, already scrambled into position in front of Jess.

"What are you, boy?" the intruder asked.

"Funny," Harry replied. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"I can smell the humanity on you," the intruder said. "How can you do what you do?"

"I'm a wizard."

The intruder's face scrunched up in confusion. "What demon do you worship that would give you gifts to challenge me?"

"I don't worship anybody, freak," Harry replied.

"Pity," the intruder chirped, "they might have convinced me to spare your life… and your talents."

"We'll see who needs to be spared."

Harry didn't waste any more time with pleasantries. He used banishing charms to send pieces of the broken dresser at the intruder. None of the newly made stakes came close to reaching the intruder; instead they all zoomed harmlessly past him and out the window into the darkness beyond.

The yellow-eyed man cast a stream of burning hot flames at Harry's face. Harry didn't even blink as he turned the fire into steam and then harmless mist.

"Impressive," the intruder complimented, sounding genuine to Harry's ears.

Wave after wave of stunning spells erupted from Harry's palms. The first two angry red lights struck the intruder but did not stun him, instead merely knocking him to his knees. Harry kept up the bombardment until the man figured out how to stop the onslaught. As soon as the first stunner passed by harmlessly, Harry grabbed Jess and apparated.

Harry looked around in shock.

"How did we just do that?" Jess asked. "What the hell is going on?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Harry said. He'd intended to apparate to the Grand Canyon, not the front yard. "He's keeping me from apparating too far… somehow."

"Is that what you call it?" the intruder asked, appearing from behind him.

"Leave us be," Harry demanded.

"I'm afraid that's not an option anymore," the intruder replied calmly. "I can't afford the two of you meddling with my plans."

"Kind of leaves us at an impasse, doesn't it?"

The intruder cocked his head to the side, as if in thought. "There is one escape I can think of for you. Kill the girl and swear your soul to my service."

"I've had better offers from crazier fucks than you," Harry replied, trying to ignore the panicked moans coming from Jess. "He didn't have your nice eye coloring though."

"As you wish."

Harry recalled the hatred he felt for Voldemort the moment before he'd struck him down, and shouted "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The green light traveled towards the other man. The intruder's yellow eyes widened in realization of what the spell soaring towards him would result in. The intruder disappeared in the blink of an eye, and the killing curse destroyed the massive tree in the backyard.

Harry grabbed Jess's arm again and attempted to apparate a second time. He groaned in frustration as they ended up outside the bedroom in the main upstairs hallway. Jess was torn from his grasp by some invisible force and she slid across the floor and into the bedroom. The door opened as she crossed the threshold and then closed behind her.

Harry sent a smashing spell at the door but it only fractured. He strengthened the spell as he tried a second time. Jess screamed from inside the room. His third attempt broke the wood completely.

The intruder looked back at him and smiled, the first time he'd done so in the length of their fight. Frankly, it scared Harry to hell in a way that not even Voldemort had accomplished. The intruder moved his fingers in a wave and then Harry was flying backwards.

Harry smashed through the window and fell to the ground below. Chunks of glass embedded within him, bones breaking at the conclusion of the fall, and his back snapping in a horrible crunch.

In the distance, beyond his own pain, he heard Jess scream Sam's name and someone's deeply satisfied laugh.

* * *

_Centennial Road, Jericho, California_

Sam pushed the gas pedal harder as he heard his cell phone ring.

"About time," Sam said in greeting.

"Laugh it up, Sammy," Dean returned over the poor connection. "Don't you know it's a crime to make false reports to the police?"

"Only if you get caught. Which _I_ don't."

"Yeah, yeah. Where are you now?"

"Centennial Road."

"Great, come pick me up. I'm about two miles down the road from the police station."

"Figured," Sam said. "I'm on my way."

"Better be."

"Listen, I spoke with Constance's husband while you were… _preoccupied_."

"Yeah, and?"

"And he was definitely unfaithful. He got really confrontational when I suggested an affair on his part."

"Gee, Sammy, think that might have had something to do with his attitude problem?"

"I thought he was going to slug me for a minute there."

Dean gripped the phone at the thought of someone hurting his brother. "Did he?"

"No, I apologized and then high-tailed it out of there. Been waiting for you to bust out ever since."

"So we're definitely dealing with a Lady in White?" Dean clarified, changing topics. "Unfaithful men everywhere watch out, right?"

Sam laughed before he saw something in the middle of the road. He dropped the phone onto the floor and smashed the break with his right foot. The car swerved and the tires squealed against the road's pavement. The Impala passed through the figure and came to a sudden halt.

Sam looked around to see what he'd hit. He heard the sound of Dean's panicked voice calling his name from the floor. As he bent down to grab the phone, his eyes caught the rearview mirror and the woman that appeared in the back seat.

"Take me home?" she asked.

"Constance."

"Take me home."

"No."

"Take me home!" This time it was not a question, it was a command.

"Sam!" Dean's voice burst from the floor and echoed through the car.

"No."

The car doors locked, the gas pedal came to life and the Impala began to rush down the main road. The phone on the floor went dead due to the sudden burst of electro magnetic interference.

Within minutes the car was parked outside of the home that used to belong to Constance and her children… all of whom were now deceased.

Sam eyed the apparition in the backseat. "You don't have to do this."

"I can't go home," Constance repeated sorrowfully. "I can never go home."

Her image flickered several times before disappearing and then reappearing in the passenger's seat. Sam tried to escape the door again, but the locks were still in place. He couldn't go anywhere.

"Hold me," she begged seductively, "I'm so cold."

Constance's image seemed to harden and become more flesh like. She straddled Sam, and he felt invisible hands force his seat back. Her powerful thighs held his legs down. Sam grunted as she ground her groin into his.

"You can't hurt me," he said desperately, "I'm not unfaithful!"

"You will be."

Sam felt her lips smash against his own. Her tongue tried to burrow its way through his lips and massage his own. He gasped as their groins met again, and suddenly she had access to all of him. Sam reached for the car keys, but found her body holding him down.

She reared off of him and jabbed her fingertips into his flesh. Sam pulled his windbreaker apart and witnessed in horror how she penetrated his chest.

"You can't kill me! I won't be unfaithful!"

Shots rang out and the window next to them smashed.

Constance turned to look Dean in the eye. "No," she agreed with Sam. "You won't be… but he will."

Her image flickered out of existence as the next barrage of bullets flew at her head. Sam made sure to stay down.

"Sam?" Dean asked, his head entering the space that used to be occupied by a window.

"I'm okay," Sam wheezed. "Just my chest."

Dean felt like a puppet on strings as his entire body was spun away from the window, into the air, and onto the hood of the car.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he saw his brother land hard on the hood of the Impala. Constance reappeared on top of Dean, solidifying much as she had when seducing Dean.

"Won't you keep me warm?" she purred into Dean's ear.

"You can't hurt me either, sweetheart," Dean explained to her slyly. "Seeing as I haven't got anyone to be faithful to and all that."

Constance smiled at him. "That's where you're wrong. You've already promised your heart to someone, even if you won't admit it to yourself."

Dean's cocky grin vanished, an image of Harry appearing unwanted in his mind.

Constance's smile grew wider and raised her arm, ready to slash his body to ribbons. Dean watched the image flicker to show the bony tips of her fingers to be jagged and razor sharp.

"Shit."

Dean watched as the claw-like hands raced towards him, but then realized that Constance had stopped. Dean felt the Impala's engine sputter into life again.

"Dean, JUMP!" Sam cried, before flooring the gas.

Not needing to be told twice, Dean flipped over the edge of the car and rolled along the ground. By the time he stopped somersaulting over his own ass, the Impala had smashed through the wall of Constance's old home. There was a flash of blue light, screaming, and then silence.

"Sammy," he breathed in panic, before adding for the benefit of the Impala, "and my poor baby."

Sam stumbled out of the wreckage of the house and grinned proudly at his brother. Dean tried not to grimace at the gash on his brothers head that was bleeding down his face.

"What was that?" Dean demanded, already checking for dents in the car.

"She kept saying that she'd never get to go home, Dean."

"So?"

"So I figured it's because she was scared to."

"Cause this is where she offed the kids?" Dean asked, starting to catch on.

Sammy nodded. "Smart, right?"

Dean smirked before smacking his brother on the wound, causing him to laugh in pain, "Come on Brainiac and help me get my baby out of this hell-hole. _Then_ we'll celebrate."

"No," Sam corrected. "Then I go home."

* * *

Sam sighed as the Impala passed the _Welcome to Stanford_ sign. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean's hands tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel.

Sam picked up the box of cassette tapes; looking for somewhere to begin the awkward conversation he'd been trying to have with his brother for the last hundred miles or so.

"Dude," Sam stated, trying to keep the start of the conversation light, "you seriously need some new music."

"What's wrong with what you're holding?" Dean demanded.

"Well, for one thing, these are cassette tapes, and two, they're all Black Sabbath, Motor Head, Metallica… it's like shifting through the greatest hits of mullet rock."

Dean snatched the Metallica cassette back from Sam, and pocketed it. It had been a present from Harry during their road trip two years back. Plus, it was a greatest hits tape so it was doubly awesome… not that Sam knew that.

"Well, house rules, Sammy," Dean replied. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Sam smiled. "Listen, Dean…"

"Uh-oh, it may have been awhile but that's definitely your Oprah-voice, Sammy." Dean informed him. "You know I don't watch her show for a reason."

"I just wanted to say that I heard what Constance said to you, Dean."

"She didn't say anything, Sam."

Sam sighed. "It's okay, Dean. I get it now. Why you were upset with what I said at the bridge and all about relationships. You met someone… I'm happy that you're happy. Proud of you, actually."

Dean remained quiet.

"It's just… you did what I couldn't figure out how to do."

Dean looked at Sam inquiringly.

Sam continued, "You found a way to not let hunting get in the way of you finding someone, of living a real life… of being happy."

Dean was quiet for a moment before turning to look at Sam. He eyed his brother for a moment, took a breath as if gearing up to say something… and then turned the volume on the song up.

The car filled with the noise of _Back in Black_ by AC/DC.

"Sorry," Dean said loudly over the music, in mock-apology, "I can't hear you, the music's too loud."

Three songs later and the brothers pulled up to the modest colonial that Sam, Jess and Harry had called home for the last two years.

Sam grabbed his bag from the backseat and knelt outside the window.

"Will you call me if you find him?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "You could always come with."

"Tomorrow, I have the-"

"-interview," Dean cut in. "Yeah, I remember."

"Listen, Dean, I know I was kind of an ass before, but if you ever wanted to stop by and visit… or call or something, I'd like that."

"We'll see," Dean said vaguely. "After I find Dad."

"Later, Dean."

"Goodbye, Sammy."

Sam turned and went inside the house, leaving Dean parked on the street outside the house. He'd give his big brother as much time as he needed to leave.

Sam unlocked the front and stepped inside. He was tempted to call out for Jess, but remembered that it was late and Harry was probably already asleep.

He set his bag down by the door and walked slowly up the staircase, completely unprepared for what awaited him.

* * *

Outside the house, Dean waited a few moments as he silently waged a mental war with himself. For the last four years he'd wanted Sam to make some move for amends, to reconnect with him, to show that he'd given as much of a damn about Dean as Dean had about him. Finally he was getting what he wanted from Sam and Dean had to be a jerk… again.

"Fuck," he muttered, climbing out of the car. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Dean was halfway to the front door when a flash of light caught his eye. He stopped and looked at the small fence that protected the private backyard from unwanted visitors. In a sliver between the wood, he saw something glowing or reflecting off of something.

He took a cautious glance at the front door before withdrawing his weapon and walking towards the disturbance.

* * *

As soon as Harry saw that Dean was moving towards his location, he cut off the meager _lumos_ charm that he had cast. He immediately moved his hand back to his stomach and began mentally re-casting the healing spells that had been keeping him alive all night.

It had taken him several hours and he'd only just managed to heal the damage done to his spine in the fall. It took all of his concentration and remaining energy levels to keep himself alive. As it was, there was still a bleeding whole in his stomach where the window glass had carved him like a turkey on Thanksgiving.

As soon as he realized that the fall had paralyzed him, he'd given up all hope of saving Jessica. She was most likely already dead and butchered by that thing. It was all Harry's fault.

If only he could heal himself faster he could have gotten back into the fight. He might have been able to save his friend. Sam would never forgive him.

When he'd seen Dean's Impala pull up he'd tried to call out to Sam, but his voice was too raw and he needed all of his energy for healing. He'd been too late to signal Sam with the light charm, but Dean had seen it.

_Thank God for Dean Winchester_, Harry thought as Dean's head appeared over the top of the fence.

Harry saw the look that swept over Dean's face and realized how awful he must really look. Dean scrambled over the top of the fence.

"Harry?"

Harry tried to smile in response, but gasped at the pain instead. Harry breathed rapid, short breaths.

"Jess," Harry managed to squeak out, his eyes pleading for Dean to understand. "Sam."

Dean's eyes widened in alarm as he realized that whatever had done this to Harry was in the house… the house that his brother had just walked into completely unaware.

"Go," Harry mouthed, some blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

Dean needed no further prodding and was leaping over the fence in no time. He used his shoulder to break open the door, and raced into the house. He climbed the stairs in record time and sped towards the sound of Sam screaming Jessica's name.

Dean arrived just in time to see Sam staring up at Jessica, who was pinned to the ceiling and bleeding. As soon as Jessica exploded in flames, Dean dragged an unwilling Sam from the room and down the stairs. Sam struggled so much that they both almost died from falling down the stairs.

Dean dragged Sam to the car and shoved him inside.

"Stay here and call the paramedics," Dean ordered. "I'm getting Harry."

Dean almost wished he'd kept the second part to himself. Sam's look of grief turned an even darker shade of loss as he realized the fate that his best friend must have encountered.

"Harry!" Sam thundered, already struggling to get out of the car.

Dean was already over the fence and too late to stop Sam from following him.

Harry's eyes lit up when he saw Sam come over the fencing.

"Jess?" Harry asked, looking between the two brothers. Sam's eyes brimmed with tears and Dean shook his head solemnly. Harry felt tears spring to his own eyes as well. Dean watched the two roommates share a look of mutual grief. "Sorry."

"You're going to be okay, though," Sam said, unsure of whether it was to comfort himself of his friend. "I can't lose you both, not today."

"Just hang in there, Harry," Dean added. His whole body ached to touch Harry's, to comfort him. Dean didn't dare with Sam right there. It was one of the reasons he'd tried to leave Sam in the car.

In the distance, the sound of fire trucks and ambulances erupted.

"Everything's going to be okay."

Smoke filled the night sky above their heads.

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER…

_Intensive Care Ward, Stanford Hospital & Clinic_

Harry's eyes opened as he felt someone take his hand.

Dean's smiling face looked down at him. Harry smiled back tiredly.

"I'm alive, then?" he asked hoarsely.

"Oh, yeah," Dean answered, smiling widely. "You just had to go and ruin all their 'odds of survival' talk, didn't you?"

"They tell you my chances were that good, eh?"

Dean's smile dimmed as he remembered the first night at the hospital and the surgeons telling the brothers that their friend wouldn't survive the night. Harry not only managed to hang on, but also recovered exponentially faster than they had believed.

_First stupid cops, _Dean thought wryly, _then stupid doctors. What's next?_

"Just don't move too much," Dean warned. "There was some major bruising to your spine, and they don't want to risk paralysis.

"Look at you saying big doctor words. Sounds just like Sam," Harry joked. "Where is Sam?"

"He wanted to be here," Dean explained in apology, "but he had to tell Jessica's family what happened."

"What did happen, Dean?" Harry asked, pushing his grief down. "What was that thing?"

Dean felt his blood run cold. "Did you see it, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I tried to stop it. I tried to… fight it. I don't think it was human, Dean."

Dean's hand tightened on Harry's. "I need you to listen me and believe me, Harry. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded slightly, trying not to move anything below his neck.

Dean leaned in closer and put his mouth to Harry's ear.

"Do you believe in demons?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** It was never a doubt in my mind that Jess would meet her end in this story. I am sad to see her go. I hope people didn't mind the brief guest appearance of Meg and her various nefarious family members. This being Thanksgiving, I'm sure most of you can relate :)

I know there were many questions about whether or not Harry will join the boys on the road. I've seen a lot of stories where that turns into a re-telling of the supernatural episodes but with Harry just adding in quips and hooking up with one of the brothers. I'd like to… do something else. I know this chapter recounted a bit of the pilot, but the scenes included were changed to include important information for later chapters. For example, Sam overhearing that Dean's heart already belonged to someone.

Plus, lines like "shotgun shuts his cakehole" are just standard in the supernatural universe.

It's important to remember that Harry has always thought that nothing (for lack of a better term) "supernatural" was going on in this new world. Now that he knows differently, there's a whole new avenue of ways to track Sirius down. Most importantly, he needs to understand the rules of this non-Muggle element because, if the Yellow-Eyed Demon is anything to go by, not everything supernatural is nice and cuddly.

As to the 'serious Sirius speculation', I applaud the many valiant guesses. I _was_ pretty vague in my hint so don't feel too bad if you turn out to be incorrect. If I gave it away now, no one would react later on.

You guys are the reason why I'd rather write this story than my term paper so… Don't Forget To REVIEW!!!


	8. Be Careful What You Witch For

**Disclaimer:**Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize and is original material is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a thank you for helping me win the 2009 Nation Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) competition! I chose to write chapters from this fic for that story and I am proud to say that at 11:25pm last night I WON!!! I've tried to accomplish this feat for the last three years and I've finally won.

I owe it all to this story and all of your supportive reviews! So thanks!

As always, check out the author's notes at the end for more information.

***This chapter rated MA for bad language, good sex, and mediocre cliffhangers.***

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 7:  
"****Be Careful What You Witch For"**

"I thought I knew you well,  
but all this time I could never tell.  
I let you get away,  
haunts me every night and every day.  
You were the only one,  
the only friend I counted on."

- Foreigner, _That Was Yesterday_

THEN…

_Dean felt his blood run cold. "Did you see it, Harry?"_

_Harry nodded. "I tried to stop it. I tried to… fight it. I don't think it was human, Dean."_

_Dean's hand tightened on Harry's. "I need you to listen me and believe me, Harry. Can you do that?"_

_Harry nodded slightly, trying not to move anything below his neck._

_Dean leaned in closer and put his mouth to Harry's ear._

"_Do you believe in demons?"_

* * *

NOW…

"Demons?"

Dean nodded.

"Demons?" Harry asked again. "Demons are real?"

Dean listened carefully for skepticism in Harry's voice, but found only wonder and fear. Harry never failed to surprise him.

"How do you know that they are real, Dean?"

"Do you remember what I told you about my mom?" Dean asked. "About what happened to her when I was younger?"

"She died in a fire," Harry recalled, taking Dean's hand in his. Dean smirked at the irony of Harry trying to comfort him, when it should be the other way around. "Or did she?"

"Now you're catching on."

"You mean what that thing, that demon," Harry corrected, taking a deep gulp of air as the pieces fell into place. "that killed your mom was the same one that… that killed Jess?"

Dean nodded. "Dad said he found Mom pinned to the ceiling and everything. Never realized how horrifying a sight that was until this week."

Dean let Harry digest the revelation for a moment, waiting for Harry to ask the inevitable question. "What else is real?"

"Lots of things," Dean replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Vampires, Werewolves, Poltergeists. Pretty much everything that scary movies were founded on."

"What about magic? What about witches and wizards?" Harry asked suddenly, eagerly leaning towards Dean. Dean recoiled at the gleam in Harry's eyes. He didn't like the idea of Harry thinking witches were some earthy chicks in robes who worshipped the Gaia or something.

"They're human, like you and me and Sam," Dean explained carefully. "But they worship demons. In return, the demons give them powers and abilities to serve them and wreak the occasional serving of havoc on innocents."

Dean was pleased to see Harry taking the idea of witches more seriously now.

"So are they all evil or just some?" Harry asked, a twinge of hope in his question.

"Every last demon ass kissing one of them," Dean said vehemently. "No good can come from worshiping demons, Harry. It's not like there's a demon to worship that wants people to give candy to kindergartners."

"Unless the candy has been poisoned," Sam interrupted, entering the hospital room. Dean dropped Harry's hand immediately and leaned further back into the hospital chair. Harry smirked at him as Sam took the empty seat on the other side of the bed from Dean.

Sam was still wearing the nice suit he'd purchased for his girlfriend's funeral. Dean had elected to stay and wait on Harry to regain consciousness. Not that Sam had asked Dean to come to the funeral.

"I thought you were at the funeral?" Harry asked, taking Sam's hand in his other hand and giving it a friendly squeeze. Sam returned the gesture with an exhausted smile. Dean tried to fight the jealous rage that filled his chest at the gesture.

"I was," Sam explained to the pair, "but I couldn't bring myself to stay long. Had to get back and check on my buddy, right?"

Harry returned Sam's smile with one of his own, one that Dean knew was false. Dean realized that Harry didn't buy Sam's excuse for leaving early and was just playing along to make his little brother feel better.

"I see you two are getting along nicely," Sam commented. For one panicked moment, Dean checked to make sure he really wasn't still holding hands with Harry.

"Why do you say that?" Dean demanded, ignoring the warning look Harry sent his way.

"You don't talk about hunting to just anyone, Dean."

"Oh, you know Dean. He just loves doing the emotional therapy session, don't you, Dean?" Harry interrupted, trying to smooth over the awkward moment.

Dean smirked. "Hey, man, sharing is caring."

Sam laughed.

"I'm glad," Sam said. "It's going to make our road tripping a lot easier if the two of you get along from the start."

Dean's face turned red in outrage. "You want to take him with us?"

Harry's face, which had brightened slightly at the invite, was now dark and angry. "What, not enough room in the Impala for three, Dean?"

Dean wasn't sure where in the room to look. Sam seemed shocked by Dean's rude outburst, and embarrassed by him. Harry did an impressive job of looking emotionally damaged for someone already _physically_ damaged and in a hospital bed. Both were waiting for an answer.

"I thought he was your friend, Sam?" Dean inquired, shooting for a different attack method.

"He is."

"I am."

Dean might have thought the way they answered his question at the same time funny had they not looked so murderous.

"I'm just saying, Sammy, that you've made it _very_ clear that this isn't the life you would have chosen for yourself," Dean explained. "So why would you choose it for you friend?"

"And I don't get a vote?" Harry asked, interrupting so that Sam wouldn't have to respond to a question he clearly didn't have the answer to. One look at Sam's stricken face was enough to realize that.

"No, Harry, you don't." Dean tried to fill his simple answer with everything he was feeling at the moment. Didn't Harry understand anything? It wasn't Sam who didn't want this life for Harry, it was Dean. If Dean was willing to drag Harry into the hunter lifestyle, effectively shortening his life expectancy by fifty years or so, he wouldn't have bailed a year ago. Hell, he wouldn't have left at all.

"Than why tell me about what's out there at all, Dean?" Harry asked quietly, clearly having received some part of Dean's mental turmoil. "Why not just lie? Tell me I was crazy for seeing a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the dark?"

"Because you're my friend, Harry," Sam said, this time answering in Dean's place.

"What does that have to do with it?" Harry inquired.

"Because I'm a Winchester. Because being in the life of a Winchester… it makes you a target," Sam said, his voice breaking on the last word. "Just like it did our mother. Just like it did Jessica."

"We're not cursed, Sam," Dean snapped at him.

"Unless you and Dad picked up some new friends in the past few years, Dean, than I think you should take a look at why our family is made up of loners."

"It's not cause we're cursed."

"Right," Sam replied sarcastically. "It's cause everyone we like is dead."

Dean looked away from his younger brother. When they were six, Sam had asked if their family had been cursed. Dean didn't believe it, but Sam had always held on to the notion.

_What a way to grow up_, Dean thought to himself.

"And because you're a target," Sam continued, unaware of the mental somersaults going through Dean's mind, "is all the more reason to keep you safe."

"And hunting is safe?" Dean asked.

"No, being prepared is safe. Hunting is just practice. Practice makes perfect."

"You sound like Dad," Dean accused.

"Since when is that a negative in your eyes, Dean?"

Harry cleared his throat, catching the attention of the two brothers who were fighting over his future but clearly having forgotten he was present. The brothers flushed slightly.

"If you two could put a sock in it for a minute, please," said Harry. "You keep talking about 'hunting' but you didn't explain what that was yet. I'm assuming you don't mean like rabbit or deer season or something?"

Sam and Dean connected eyes over the top of Harry's hospital bed. Dean nodded at Sam to continue. If Sam was going to drag Harry into this, despite Dean's objections, then he ought to have to deal with all the explanations that went along with it.

Sam sighed. "Dean explained about our mom?"

Harry nodded.

"After she was killed, Dad became absolutely driven. Almost everything he did was about finding out what killed Mom."

"How'd he do it?" Harry asked.

"Stubbornness," Dean inserted wryly. Even Sam smirked.

"That and, according to Dad's journal, someone from Missouri," Sam continued.

"Missouri?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I don't get the reference either," said Dean. "But whoever they were, they were remarkably informed. Usually the only way to find out about the supernatural world is from another hunter."

"Like I am," Harry said, smiling at the brothers. "Good thing I've got _two_ hunters to learn from."

Sam shook his head. "Nah, Dean over there is the real hunter. He and Dad have been hunting since before I could talk."

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Dean ordered, "Sam's just as much of a hunter as me. Probably more so, since he had me and Dad training him up all his life."

Harry let the brothers share a moment of peace and a smile before breaking into the conversation again. "So what exactly do you do when you hunt?"

"We find the bad things," Dean said proudly, "and we kill them. No matter what it takes."

"You kill the bad things," Harry clarified, swallowing deeply, "meaning demons and werewolves and… and witches."

Dean saw how Harry swallowed thickly and realized he must have presented his occupation in the wrong light.

Sam must have come to the same conclusion since he quickly added, "They all deserve it, Harry. The only way we can even track these things down is by how much damage they cause and how many people they kill before we can get to them."

Harry nodded. "So how many hunters are there?"

"It's not like there's a guild, Harry."

"What my brother means," Sam said more tactfully, "is that we don't really know. There are only a few main hubs that hunters go to. Most of the time you only hear about something getting wasted and know that another hunter got to it first. Every now and then you run into a hunter on a job, but that's pretty rare."

"And this is what you did growing up?" Harry asked incredulously. "What about school?"

"What about school?" Dean echoed the question back. "Fuck school. We got a real world experience."

"We moved around a lot," Sam answered, shrugging the question off even though it was apparent to everyone in the hospital room that it was not a topic he dealt with easily.

"So I would hunt these things, too?"

"No," Dean responded immediately, already shooting a warning glare at his younger brother.

"It's up to him, Dean."

"What about college?" Dean demanded.

"Dean," Harry rounded on his ex-lover. "Not five minutes ago you said, and I quote, 'Fuck school'. Are you really going to stand there and pretend to be the poster boy of education?"

"Maybe not of education," Dean muttered.

"What's a matter, Dean, don't want me around? Besides, without Sam and – and Jess, I don't think I would even want to go back."

Dean tried to ignore the hidden pain in Harry's question. Of course, Dean wanted Harry around. He just didn't want it enough to risk Harry's death. Apparently his little brother was selfish enough to run that risk.

"He won't be safe with anyone else," Sam argued. "The Yellow-Eyed Demon has seen him, Dean. As soon as he knows he's alive, he'll be a demon magnet."

"He'll be a demon magnet with us, Sam," Dean countered. "Or did you forget about that?"

Sam held up the tie he'd worn to Jess's funeral. "No, Dean, I haven't forgotten."

Dean looked away from his brother. He hadn't meant to throw his fiancée's death in the man's face. Why anyone bothered putting up with him Dean had no idea. The only person more likely to be blunt with someone than Dean was Bobby.

Dean snapped his head up to meet's Sam's questioning gaze.

"What, Dean?"

Dean glanced at Harry before turning back to Sam. "I think I have another idea."

"Oh, goodie," Harry said, mockingly clapping his hands in excitement.

"Shut it, Harry."

* * *

_Sleep Easy Seaside Motel & Bar_

As soon as Dean opened the motel door, Harry bolted for the bathroom as fast as his injuries would let him.

"Dibs on the loo!" he shouted to them as he slammed the door behind him.

"The loo?" Dean asked Sam in amusement.

Sam shrugged at him, chucking his duffel bag on the bed closest to the bathroom. "Sometimes he slips on the American lingo."

"After four years of living here?" Dean asked.

Sam looked at him oddly.

"What?" Dean asked, checking to see if he'd spilt any of his lunch on his favorite jacket.

"How did you know how long Harry's been living here?" Sam asked, watching his brother closely. "I don't think I ever mentioned it."

Dean shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "He must have said it in the hospital or something."

Sam was interrupted from inquiring further by Harry's reemergence.

"Next time I say we make pit stops on the way."

"Maybe if you'd have pissed before we left you wouldn't have had to hold it for so long," Dean suggested as he sat on the bed next to Sam's. "Besides, we're halfway to Bobby's now."

Harry looked between the two brothers and then at the beds they were sitting on. "Uh, Sam?"

"Yes, Harry?" Sam asked, wondering where Harry was going with his question.

"Is there a reason you got a room with only two beds and no couch?" Harry asked pointedly.

Sam looked around the room, suddenly realizing his mistake. He laughed. "Sorry, Harry, I guess you'll have to bunk with one of us."

Dean shifted uneasily. "Looks like roommates are splitting a bed."

Harry eyed Dean for a moment, before a distinctly Marauder gleam entered his eye. "I don't know, Dean. As you so often like to point out, Sam is kind of a big guy. Might be more comfortable, for both of us, if I just slept with you."

Dean choked at the double meaning of Harry's last words.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked, worriedly.

Dean waves him off. "Just a little cough."

"I don't mind, Harry," Sam offered diplomatically. "I make room for Jess all the time."

There was silence as everyone registered Sam's slip in tense.

"I mean…" Sam started, before Harry put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Sam. Dean doesn't mind. Do you, Dean."

Dean glared at Harry's pointed comment before nodding reluctantly.

* * *

_That night…_

As Sam slept peacefully in his own bed, Harry was disturbed by Dean's constant shifting of position.

"Is there a problem over there?" Harry asked quietly, rolling over to face Dean.

"No," Dean whispered sternly. "Just not used to sleeping with someone else in the bed."

"Well I know that's a lie," Harry chuckled suggestively.

"Will you be quiet?" Dean whispered, clearly panicked. "In case you've forgotten, your friend, and my brother, is asleep not five feet away."

"Doesn't that make it more exciting?" Harry teased, putting a hand on Dean's stomach.

Dean slid further away. "Go back to sleep, Harry."

Harry eyed the conspicuously large bulge below Dean's waist. "Do you require some assistance wrangling Big Dean, Dean? Luckily for you, I happen to be quite an expert in that department."

"I can't help it," Dean said frustrated and obviously exhausted. "This is what happens when you get too close to me."

Harry smirked. Dean blushed as he realized what he had just admitted to.

"So if I were to get closer," Harry asked as he slid over to Dean's side of the bed, "that would keep you, for lack of a better word, 'up' all night?"

Dean closed his eyes at the contact. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's just – being cooped up in that hospital room with you next to me. Especially when it had been so long since we last…" Harry trailed off with a sigh. He pulled his hand away from Dean. "I guess you're not the only one having trouble staying… _deflated_."

"For lack of a better word?" Dean echoed Harry's words with a smile. Harry chuckled.

They smiled at each other in amiable silence.

"It's nice having you back, Dean."

"Right back at ya, Harry."

* * *

_The Next Morning…_

"Ready to see your new home?" Sam asked excitedly from the passenger seat. Dean merely grumbled something unintelligible at his brother.

Harry looked out the rear window in time to see a run down sign declaring that it was only one mile until they reached _Singer Auto Salvage Yard_.

"You have no idea," Harry responded.

A few minutes later they were pulling up the dirt road towards what was clearly a junkyard of some kind. Scraps of metal littered the ground around the road, increasing in size and quantity as they approached the house.

"I know it's not much, but," Dean shrugged. "you'd be surprised how good it can be here."

"I love it," Harry said, making sure not to include any trace of sarcasm. The house was rundown and eccentric… it reminded Harry of the best parts of The Burrow. If there was any doubt that Harry would like it at Bobby's, the Winchesters had none now.

Dean met Sam's eyes and they shared the same question: _Who likes Bobby's this much?_

"It reminds me of home," Harry said in response to the unasked question.

A middle-aged man stepped out of the screen door and onto the porch. There was a shotgun in his hand and a dog at his side. He was dressed in red and brown flannel, jeans, and a trucker's hat. When the Impala came to a stop the man spit some tobacco down the front steps. Harry was eerily reminded of some of Mad-Eye Moody's more interesting characteristics.

Of course, Harry always knew the best way to get to old Mad-Eye.

Harry plastered a large grin on his face before his hand even reached for the door handle. He slowly extracted himself from the car, careful not to tear any of his stitches, and grinned up at the man.

"Bobby, I presume?"

Bobby pursed his lips in response. Instead of answering Harry, he turned to look at Dean and Sam.

"Been a long time since I've seen this pair of Winchesters," he said.

"Hey, Bobby," Sam greeted warmly.

"Don't you use my first name, boy," Bobby ordered. "That's for people who have called me in the last year and pretty women. Unless you've picked up a damn phone or undergone a certain surgery in the last year, you can call me Mr. Singer."

Dean laughed. Harry smiled over the hood of the car at Sam's embarrassment.

"Oh, I like him already," Harry told Dean loudly.

"Bobby," Dean said, taking Harry's hint, "this is Harry."

"You can also call me, Mr. Singer," Bobby replied, before pointing the shotgun at the steps in front of them.

For the first time Harry noticed a glass on the steps.

"What's that?" Harry asked, confused.

"That's not necessary, Bobby," said Dean.

"Don't tell me what's necessary and what isn't, boy," Bobby told him. "When you're a hunter with bones as creaky as mine and hair as grey as mine, _then_ I might take your advice. Until then, shut up and do as your told. Idjiot."

Harry took up the glass and looked at the brothers for guidance.

"It's holy water," Sam explained. "He's making sure you're just as human as the rest of us."

Harry wondered for a minute if the holy water would hurt him in some way. Could it detect his magic? Did it somehow make him less than human in this world?

With one last look at Dean, Harry downed the glass. Harry was tempted to fake a seizure of some kind but the way Bobby's hand was gripping the shotgun made Harry rethink his Marauder instinct. _Better safe than with bullet holes_, he told himself.

Apparently satisfied, Bobby turned around and went back inside of the house. The dog followed him, the screen door shutting behind them with a clang.

"At least he acknowledged my presence this time," Harry said hopefully.

"Yeah," Dean recognized. "Just don't get used to it. Bobby takes a bit to warm up to people."

"And then some," Sam added, grabbing the luggage from the Impala's trunk.

* * *

_Four Days Later…_

Dean was almost sad to see the note his father had left for him and Sam in his journal. Apparently his father wanted them to know he went to Black Water, Colorado. Which meant two things to Dean. First, that the brothers would be pursuing their wayward father there. Second, that it was time to leave Bobby's and that meant leaving Harry.

Everything had been going so well over the last couple of days that Dean had almost forgotten his father was missing. Dean had also almost forgotten that Sam's girlfriend had been slain by the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Dean had almost forgotten that he and Harry were no longer an item, despite their minor flirtations during the last few days.

_Almost_ forgotten, being the key point.

To Sam and Dean's complete shock Bobby had taken to Harry the very next morning. Dean had woken up to the sound of Bobby laughing and the smell of fresh food in the kitchen. Dean smiled in memory of just how good of a cook Harry was. Then Dean was distracted by Big Dean and the memory of Harry's favorite past time: eating his food off of Dean.

Dean dressed when he was done tending to Big Dean's needs, and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. The kitchen was modest but Harry had obviously worked his magic. The small kitchen table was filled to the brim with pancakes, waffles, and toast. Sam was already filling his cakehole with as much homemade food as possible. He was also smiling, which pleased Dean to no end. His brother hadn't given a genuine smile since the funeral.

Harry was pouring Bobby a large cup of coffee. When the older man wasn't looking, Harry winked at Dean and poured a small amount of sugar in the coffee cup. Bobby was belly laughing deeply at whatever joke Harry had just told him.

"Morning, Dean," Sam greeted around a mouthful of waffle.

"Better eat what you can, Dean," Bobby warned him, "Sam, A.K.A. 'The Black Hole' over there isn't leaving you much."

"What?" Sam defended his hunger. "I forgot how good Harry could cook. Not my fault Dean stayed in bed so long."

Dean smiled as he sat down and pulled an empty plate towards him. Harry automatically loaded the dish with a stack of pancakes. He passed Dean the syrup and a small bowl of chopped up bananas.

"Banana pancakes are Dean's favorite," Sam said, unaware of the heart attack his innocent comment was giving his brother and his best friend.

Dean froze, his fork outstretched to spear some chopped banana pieces, as the weight of Sam's words hit him. Harry was a pro at lying, apparently, as he just kept on moving around the table as if nothing had jarred him. His eyes did flicker towards Dean's face though.

"Oh," Harry said, his voice coming out high-pitched. He cleared it. "I didn't know. Funny coincidence that."

"Yeah," said Bobby, looking between Dean and Harry's faces. "Coincidence."

Bobby took one of the pancakes off of Dean's plate and put it on his own. He drowned it with syrup, nodded at Harry, and said, "I guess Potter can stay."

"Oh, sure," said Harry sarcastically. "Now that you finally drove me to a store to let me buy supplies and cook _now_ I can stay."

"Yup."

"Did you find anything in Dad's journal?" Sam asked, finishing buttering his toast and then reaching for the jam.

Dean paused for a minute, immediately alerting Harry that something was off.

"Yeah, Dad left us some coordinates."

Bobby glanced at Harry, gauging his reaction. "Where did that old bastard get off to?"

"Some uber-woodsy place in Colorado."

"Are you going to go after him?" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Of course," Sam answered. "You know wherever Dad's gone, he's hunting that yellow-eyed bastard."

Dean looked across the table at Harry. "That would be a 'yes' in Sammy speak."

"How soon?"

"It'll take a bit to get there, and we'll need time to prepare so… probably a day or two from now." Dean answered, trying to ignore the turmoil in Harry's eyes.

"And then you'll swing by here again?" Harry asked pointedly.

Sam smiled. "Don't worry, we won't leave you alone with Bobby for too long."

Bobby harrumphed in response.

"How long will it take?"

"Hopefully not too long," Dean answered. "I can't promise you anything though."

"No," Harry said, his voice like ice. "You can't."

Harry stalked away from the table, dirty dishes loaded up on his arms. Dean's only indication that Harry wasn't fine was the amount of effort he was putting into washing Bobby's dishes.

"What was that about?" Sam asked the table, staring at his friend's retreating back.

"Just eat, Big Foot," Bobby said, passing the plate of toast to the younger Winchester.

* * *

_Later That Night…_

Dean found Harry on the front porch.

He was sitting on the top step, wrapped tightly in one of Bobby's old blankets. The thing had more holes than Swiss cheese, but it was thick. Harry smiled at Dean's approaching figure, patting the wood beside him.

"Nice blanket," Dean mock complimented.

Harry laughed. "It's warm enough."

"Bobby seems to like you."

"I like him, too."

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry scooted closer to Dean. Dean took a cautionary glance behind them before wrapping an arm around him. Harry put his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Be safe out there, okay?"

"I will."

"I'm worried about Sam, Dean."

"I know. I am, too."

"He's really gung-ho about hunting this demon, Dean," Harry explained. "It's not like him to be so… bloodthirsty."

"He reminds me of Dad."

"Is that a good thing?"

Dean shrugged. "Dad was alone with two kids when Mom died. I think that Sam's got a much better chance now that he has us with him."

"Damn right."

Harry tentatively put his hand on Dean's leg.

"Harry, don't," Dean warned, but he did not make a motion to withdraw his leg from Harry's reach.

"Why not?" Harry asked, his lips so close to the sensitive portion of Dean's throat that he could feel his breath. "Now that you're leaving, you don't want me?"

"I do want you, Harry, but there's no reason to rush this."

"You're leaving in a few days for God knows how long, Dean," Harry pointed out with a chuckle. "When else am I supposed to seduce you?"

"I'm coming back."

Harry moved away from Dean, shaking his head sadly. "It's always something, Dean."

"What does that mean?" Dean demanded.

"First, we can't be together because you're Sam's brother." Harry said, adding a finger to represent a new tally against Dean. "Then, I find out you're Sam's brother, and you take off because you lied about being a hunter. Now, I know about Sam and I know about your hunting and it's still not good enough."

"That's not fair, Harry."

"No, it's not."

Harry stood and made to move back into the house. Dean ignored every cautious bone in his body and leapt up after him. He spun Harry around and pressed him up against the front door. Harry's mouth found his, and then his fingers were moving through Dean's hair.

"You better come back," Harry ordered him, before returning to his assault on Dean's lips.

Dean felt his way down Harry's pant leg, grabbing the younger man firmly. Harry gasped and moaned loudly. A light in the house clicked on, dragging Dean's attention back to reality. He froze in panic as he heard footsteps moving down the rickety staircase.

Harry took one look at Dean's stricken face and cursed out loud. He grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him off the porch. After a few moments of walking they entered the junkyard behind Bobby's home, easily losing themselves in the discarded auto parts.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked.

"Away from the house," Harry snapped at him immediately. "That's what you want, right? To not have to be seen with me?"

Dean kicked a small metallic object into the distance. "Damn it, Harry. It's not that simple."

"Telling your brother that you're gay?"

"I'm not gay," Dean returned angrily.

"Oh, was that a different Dean Winchester with his tongue down my throat a few minutes ago?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"It's complicated."

"So I hear."

Harry sat on the hood of a battered Pontiac. "I thought it would be different between us this time."

Dean sighed. "I know you did. I'm sorry."

"Than fix it, Dean." Harry ordered him. "I want to be with you. I spent the last year kicking myself for letting you go without a fight. I have you back now, and I'll be damned if I just sit here and let you drive me away because you're afraid."

Dean wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Come find me when you're ready to grow up, Dean," Harry implored him. "I want to date you, Dean, not just fuck you."

Harry disappeared in the direction of the house.

"Me, too, Harry," Dean whispered to no one. "Me, too."

* * *

_The Next Night…_

The bedroom was so hot that Dean felt like his whole body was on fire.

Dean tried shedding his usual night apparel, but even without his shirt and pajama bottoms he was still too warm. His bed sheets and comforter had long ago been discarded and banished to the floor. The small window, the only window in the bedroom Bobby had assigned to him, was open and completely unhelpful. Dean rolled over to the other side of the bed and looked at the clock.

"3:14," Dean muttered to himself. "Only 3 minutes since the last time I checked the damn thing."

Dean turned towards the door as a creaking floorboard sounded outside of his room. Dean's heart started to beat loudly. He hoped it was Harry coming to see him again. He also feared that it was Harry.

Harry had made it perfectly clear what he wanted from Dean. Of course it was the one thing Dean had little faith he was capable of giving: a relationship. Harry was the closest he'd ever come to letting someone in completely. He knew about Dean's history, his complicated relationship with Sam, and even about his man-whore ways.

_So why can't I fucking date him?_ Dean mentally asked himself angrily.

When the floorboards creaked again, Dean sprang into action. He flung open the door and found Bobby's dog glaring up at him. Dean's heart sank.

"Scram, Mutt."

The dog growled at him but continued on its course down the hallway and into the living room area. Dean looked at the door across from his and willed it to open. To his great disappointment Harry's door refused to follow his mental orders.

"Screw it," Dean said, and padded barefoot across the dusty floorboard and stalked up to Harry's door. He waited, hand raised to knock, before summoning his courage and knocking on the door softly.

Harry opened the door immediately, startling Dean.

"Dean," Harry breathed in greeting, a smile of relief spreading across his handsome features.

Dean entered the room and cupped Harry's face in his hands. As Harry wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders, Dean locked their lips together. He felt Harry's smile against his own lips and took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

"When I said I wanted an answer, I didn't mean in the middle of the night," Harry joked, before raking his gaze down Dean's sweat covered body. "Not that I don't like the presentation."

Dean had forgotten how naked he was in just his boxers, not that they were much help with the sweat making them cling to his body. Instead, they looked skintight.

"Couldn't sleep," Dean responded, closing the door quietly behind him and locking it.

"Planning on staying?" Harry asked hopefully.

Dean led him to the bed and laid him down. Harry ran a hand down the firm muscles of Dean's chest and abdomen. Dean grabbed his hand before Harry's skilled fingers could reach the waistband of his boxers.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his eyes questioning.

Dean climbed into the bed next to him, sitting his back up against the headboard. Harry complied limply when Dean pulled him flush up against his body. Dean made sure to leave Harry's head on his chest.

"Dean?" Harry asked again when the older man remained non-responsive for a few minutes.

Dean swallowed. "If I look at you, I won't be able to get through this, okay?"

Harry nodded his head slowly against Dean's frame. "Okay."

"I know what you want from me, Harry." Dean's hand tightened around Harry's side. "I would be lying if I said I didn't want you, but if I mess this up… if I mess _us_ up, I don't want to lose you as my friend. I don't want to make Sam lose _his_ friend."

Harry kissed his stomach in reassurance, but didn't interrupt.

"I've never been good with monogamy. I've never been good with telling the truth or anything. I have to lie because everyone I tell the truth to thinks that I am crazy. You're the first person who's ever stuck around, even when I tried to push them away."

Dean felt water building in his eyes. "And you have no idea how messed up I am right now. I just got my brother back, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for him. His girlfriend's dead and I can't do anything to help him feel better. I'm his big brother and I can't help him. My Dad is missing, and I, I… I think he's dead. And I swear to God, Harry, if you tell Sam that I'll never speak to you again."

Harry snuggled closer in response, turning their spooning into a semi-hug. Dean didn't realize how long it had been since someone had hugged him.

"And I've never wanted anyone like I want you. And I know I shouldn't say this, but I've always loved women. I still do. I don't know why you're the exception, but I'm happy you are. I don't know what that makes me, okay? But I'm working on it."

"I want to love you, Harry. I want to be there for you and I want to try to make us work. But you have to know," Dean said, finally turning Harry's head up to face him. "I _will_ mess this up. I _will_ hurt you in some way. But you can't hate me, Harry, you just can't. You're the first friend I've made since the sixth grade. Sammy needs you. I need you."

Harry just stared at him, making Dean even more disgusted with himself for his speech. For the life of him, Dean couldn't figure out why he was tearing up. Worse yet, he couldn't stop it.

"Can I talk now?" Harry asked gently.

Dean nodded shakily.

"There's a lot I could say to try to make you feel better, Dean," Harry said slowly. "Like how I'm just as likely to hurt you. How I would never leave Sam no matter what happened between us. That your friendship over the last few years meant more than all the fantastic sex combined."

Dean snorted in amusement. Harry smiled at him.

"But more important than that," Harry continued, cupping Dean's face. "I promise that I'm not going anywhere if you don't."

"So I guess this means that we're… what, dating?" Dean asked, laughing at himself. "Boyfriends?"

Harry laughed at the awkward term. "Let's not use that word, it doesn't really fit us."

Dean smiled. "Deal."

Harry kissed him on the lips before going after the flesh on his neck. Harry moved down to his chest, then sucked on each nipple. Dean moaned as Harry's mouth slipped lower and lower worshiping whatever flesh it could find.

He didn't even notice when Harry flung a hand at the walls around them, protecting the noise of their amorous lovemaking from awaking the rest of the household.

* * *

_The Next Day…_

_Lawrence, Kansas_

Missouri opened the door before John had a chance to knock. She smirked as she saw his arm was still poised to knock.

"Missouri," John greeted before stepping past her and into the house.

"I don't care how far back we go, John Winchester," Missouri warned as she closed and bolted the door behind her, "but you should know better than to just barge into a woman's home without so much as a 'may I come in'."

"Did you see me ask in your vision?" John asked, eyebrow raised.

"Of course I did."

John smirked. "Well then why go through the motions?"

Missouri frowned and poured him some ice tea. She waited until he took a sip before asking, "Did you know that one of your sons is sleeping with a man?"

John spewed out his mouthful of ice tea and began to cough.

"What?!?" he exclaimed.

Missouri smirked. "I was going to build up to that with some small talk, but, as you said, why bother going through the motions, right John?"

As John stared at her open mouthed, Missouri took a petite sip from her glass.

"Is it Sammy?" John asked.

"Uh-huh, John Winchester," Missouri tutted at him. "I ain't dragging one of your boys out of the closet before he's ready."

"I'm their father, and I deserve to know."

"You going to love them any less?" Missouri demanded.

"Well, no," John backtracked. "As long as they are with humans I suppose I can't complain. Love is love right?"

"How very progressive of you, John," Missouri complimented him. "Just remember that you said that in the future."

"Is that the reason I'm here, Missouri?" John questioned. "You're concerned about my parenting habits?"

"Oh, Lord knows I've tried to change your parenting skills since day one, John Winchester," Missouri recalled. "That's never stopped you from dragging those poor boys from state to state killing every evil thing that came across your path."

"Says the woman who set me on that course."

"I didn't set you on anything, that was your choice the moment you left my house that first night. Don't you blame me for just trying to inform your ignorant ass."

John took a long gulp of ice tea. Missouri tossed a wooden coaster onto the table in front of him. John nodded his head in thanks.

"Why did you call me again?" John asked in his most polite voice.

"You were never very good at small talk. Ever just try asking someone how they are?"

"You're not going to tell me until I ask, are you?" John asked. "Fine. How are you, Missouri?"

Missouri waved a hand dismissively at him. "Oh, don't even ask. I've got such horrible migraines from my visions lately and my mortgage is out of control. Rather this economy is out of control. Plus, this house is just falling apart and I can't afford to fix it up. Which means I have to fix it myself. I may be a working woman but that doesn't mean I'm capable of fixing the plumbing and painting the house! That's what a man's for. Only I can't find the time to find a man because I'm too busy keeping my third eye trained on your funky eye colored demon! Even when I do go on dates, my damn migraines keep interfering. Did I mention the migraines?"

"Missouri," John growled angrily. "I asked how you were, _not_ for your life story."

"A polite person would offer to look at the faulty sink," said Missouri.

"As you just took the afternoon to point out to me, Missouri," John retorted. "I am _not_ a polite person."

"It's fine," Missouri said, waving away the issue, "your boys will be here soon enough. They'll help me out."

John sat up straight. "My boys are together? Since when?"

"Since that demon of yours killed poor Sam's girlfriend," Missouri said sadly. "She was such a sweet child."

"The demon went after Sam?"

"If you bothered to check your messages," Missouri lectured, "or called your children every now and then, you'd know all this."

John was already whipping out his phone. "I sent Dean after some of my leftover hunts. I didn't know he'd get Sammy… or that this would happen."

"It was always going to happen, John," Missouri reminded him. "I keep telling you what's coming. No matter what you do, your boys will be at the center of this."

Missouri took the glasses to the kitchen while John listened to the messages Dean and others had left him. A few minutes later John followed her into the kitchen, shrugging his coat on.

"Leaving already?" she inquired.

"You said the boys were on their way, I need to leave."

"Not even going to ask why they're coming to Lawrence, Kansas before you hit the road to avoid your children?"

"Just tell me, Missouri. I'm not in the mood."

"Your wife's spirit is in your old home, John."

"Mary?"

"That _was_ her name, sweetheart."

John leaned heavily against the countertop. "The boys are coming to exorcize her?"

"Not exactly," Missouri explained softly. "Mary is keeping the current residents safe from something else… something very evil and cruel."

"The demon?" John's hand went to his gun.

"No, John, try to stay on point."

"Try to get to the point, then."

"The point is that the boys are coming to get rid of the spirit."

"I can do that right now."

"No," Missouri said firmly, stepping in front of the door. "The boys need to be here, so that you can go to Singer."

"Bobby?" John asked, incredulously. "I haven't spoken to Bobby in almost a year."

"And whose fault is that, John Winchester?" Missouri snapped. "It doesn't matter anyways. It's not Bobby you're going to go see."

"Than who?"

"One of Sam's friend from Stanford named Harry Potter," Missouri said.

"Sam brought one of his friends from school to meet Bobby?" John asked angrily. "I taught him better than to use hunting as a means of impressing his friends."

"Harry isn't just some college buddy, John." Missouri settled her hands on John's shoulders to keep him focused. "He survived the demon's attack on Sam's girlfriend. He's important to what you're trying to do. He's at the center of all of this."

"Okay," John said, nodding his head to show his acceptance of the plan. "Talk with this Harry Potter. Got it."

John was at the door when Missouri's voice stopped him. "Oh, and John?"

"Yeah?"

"Be nice to the boy," Missouri advised. "He's going to be a big part of your family's life. A very big part."

"I'm always nice," John said, closing the door behind him.

"You better be," Missouri muttered, already compiling a mental list of chores for the Winchester brothers to complete upon their arrival. "This one ain't going to take none of your crap."

* * *

_Three Days Later…_

_Singer Auto Salvage Yard_

Harry groaned as Dean's alarm went off.

"Dean," he muttered tiredly. "Turn that fucking thing OFF."

It was Dean's turn to groan. Instead of turning off the alarm, he smashed the damn thing. The motion moved Dean's bed sheet off of Harry, so he snuggled in to Dean's side for warmth. Dean wrapped an arm around the younger man's shoulder.

"Remind me again why we set that for 4AM?" Harry asked into Dean's chest.

"So you can go back to your room before Sam wakes up," Dean answered, stifling a yawn in the process.

"Sure you don't want to just come clean with your brother?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Dean said warningly. "We talked about this for like 2 hours last night."

"No," Harry corrected, poking Dean in the side. "We discussed it for about 10 minutes before you started taking my clothes off."

Dean smiled at the memory. "What can I say? I like you to be all natural."

"You realize we really will have to talk about this at some point, right?"

"Why?" Dean whined. "Every time we talk we break up. I'd rather not do that again. Although I do like all the make-up sex."

"I think that's because you do most of the talking and then we break up," Harry thought aloud. "Maybe if you'd just do what I say we would have been having a lot more sex this past year."

"But I like it when your mouth does other things," Dean complained suggestively.

Harry punched him in the gut. "Don't be crass, Dean. It's too early."

"Ouch," Dean said, rubbing his stomach. "Wendigo beat me up last week, Harry. I really don't need your help getting more bruises."

Harry scrunched his face up in apology. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Dean replied, rolling on top of Harry. "I might know how you can make it up to me."

"Oh, really?"

Harry giggled at Dean's movements before recasting his silencing spells around the room. Dean kissed his way up from Harry's neck back to his lips. His hands traveled up the front of Harry's chest then slowly came back down.

Dean undid the fly to Harry's boxers and reached into the material stroking him firmly. Harry whimpered against Dean's mouth, thrusting into the hand wrapped around him. He quickly unfastened Dean's underwear as well, and Dean abandoned his actions long enough to slide them off himself.

Dean grabbed Harry under his rear and flipped the younger man onto his front. Dean usually enjoyed being able to look Harry in the eyes when he was inside of him. However, Harry's labored breathing indicated that he was enjoying being dominated in this manner.

Dean reached into the familiar dresser drawer and retrieved his condom and lube.

"Ready?" Dean breathed the question into Harry's ear

Harry nodded against the pillow.

A few hours later Harry awoke to the feeling of Dean's bare chest rising and falling under his cheek. It was a most ideal way to wake up, much better than waking up to the alarm clock.

He shifted a bit so that he could look up at Dean. Dean's face was relaxed, and the sunlight made his features glow. Here and now, Dean was god like. His performance earlier in the morning only intensified the impression.

Or at least it did until Dean lifted one eyelid and smirked back at him.

"I'm sorry my beauty is too great to sleep next to," he said proudly. "I'm happy you've discovered the joys of watching me sleep."

"You're so handsome. I can't help myself." Harry said honestly.

Dean's smirk evaporated at Harry's words. "You really mean that, don't you? I think I could get used to this whole domesticity thing."

Harry nodded. Dean leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips.

"How long were we asleep?" Dean asked.

"Don't know," Harry answered. "It's not getting dark out or anything, so we can't have overslept that long."

"Shit," Dean muttered, glancing at his watch. "Sam's already awake."

"I can always sneak out through the window again," Harry offered sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's my fault we fell asleep."

"I remember it a bit differently," Dean responded. "And no window exits again, Batman. You almost broke your neck last time."

Harry and Dean hopped out of bed and began getting dressed. They tossed each other articles of clothing that were strewn haphazardly around the bed.

"So when are you and Sam coming back again?" Harry asked, pulling his jeans back on.

Dean shrugged. "Sam says we have to go back to Lawrence."

"Kansas?" Harry asked incredulously. "Like your hometown?"

"The one and only."

"Is this one of his visions acting up?"

Dean nodded. "Involves our old home, too."

Harry decided to change topics. Dean would bring it up if he wanted to discuss Sam's psychic abilities more. "What about your Dad? Trail still cold?"

"We'll find him."

"Just be careful, Dean."

"Aren't I always?"

* * *

_Two Days Later…_

"Harry!" Bobby shouted up the stairs. "We've got company!"

Harry grabbed the shotgun from under his bed and bolted down the stairs. It had been two weeks since he'd left the hospital. His wounds were no longer sore thanks to the mixture of Muggle medicine and his magical healing abilities. The moment he had been feeling good enough to move around Bobby had started his physical training. Before that Bobby had him steadily reading through the massive library on the occult that had accumulated over the years.

"Who is it?" Harry asked, looking out of the living room window through a built in cut in the blinds.

"I don't believe it," Bobby muttered, unlocking the front door. "That son of a bitch."

"Wait, Bobby," Harry called after him, scrambling out the door. "Who is it?"

The mysterious black truck pulled up and stopped right outside of the front steps. A middle-aged man stepped out of the drivers seat.

The stranger stared up at Bobby. Bobby stared right back, his dog growling next to him. When the stranger's eyes met Harry's, the wizard couldn't help but use a bit of instinctual legilimency to discover his identity.

"John Winchester."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** You guys continue to dominate with reviews! As a thank you, I'm writing more each day than usual, so hopefully there will be faster updates to come. Having said that, I should warn you that the next two weeks are the last in my fall semester which means one thing: FINALS!!! They are scary, and they take lots of studying and preparation. This will seriously eat at my writing time.

Once my finals are done, I will be free on Winter Break for about a month and writing every single day. So at least there's that to look forward to. If you check out my profile, you can see the progress of chapters and such. We're now over halfway done with the story. I expect to be done sometime around January. Not to worry, I already have the sequel planned out down to the chapter titles :)

I want to thank everyone who reviewed. You made my Thanksgiving Day so much more enjoyable than it would have been. It was nice to get all those reviews popping up on my iPhone all day. It was really touching that you took some time during your holiday to review so… THANKS!!!

As far as I can tell everyone is excited to not be sticking to episode by episode of the series. I will use certain selections but only if they serve a purpose in the story. These episodes may not be in the same order as they were aired on television.

This chapter is the last one that sets up plotlines so I apologize if it felt a little empty of "progress". I tried to make up for that by giving you some nice Harry/Dean moments. We're reaching the end of the story now so expect more cliffhangers, more climaxes, and big revelations in almost every chapter. Most of my character development and scene settings are done now that this chapter is complete.

We're on our way to the finale of part one! Who's excited?

Please let me know what you thought of Missouri and Bobby! I tried my best with them, but I need some reassurance or HELPFUL advice on how to improve them.

As always, it's only polite to leave a REVIEW!!!


	9. Schemes Like Old Times

**Disclaimer:**Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize and is original material is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** Don't forget to check out the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. Also, this chapter has a major cliffhanger. I may not be able to update during the next week or so. Therefore it's up to you to decide if you can handle the wait. _You have been warned._

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 8:  
"****Schemes Like Old Times"**

"When the night comes down,  
out there on the streets,  
so many sad, sad stories.  
When the night comes down,  
They're running out of hope,  
in this land of glory.  
When the night comes down,  
it's a cold hearted town,  
nothing but a battleground.

- Foreigner, _When the Night Comes Down_

THEN…

"_Harry!" Bobby shouted up the stairs. "We've got company!"_

_Harry grabbed the shotgun from under his bed and bolted down the stairs. It had been two weeks since he'd left the hospital. His wounds were no longer sore thanks to the mixture of Muggle medicine and his magical healing abilities. The moment he had been feeling good enough to move around Bobby had started his physical training. Before that Bobby had him steadily reading through the massive library on the occult that had accumulated over the years._

"_Who is it?" Harry asked, looking out of the living room window through a built in cut in the blinds._

"_I don't believe it," Bobby muttered, unlocking the front door. "That son of a bitch."_

"_Wait, Bobby," Harry called after him, scrambling out the door. "Who is it?"_

_The mysterious black truck pulled up and stopped right outside of the front steps. A middle-aged man stepped out of the drivers seat._

_The stranger stared up at Bobby. Bobby stared right back, his dog growling next to him. When the stranger's eyes met Harry's, the wizard couldn't help but use a bit of instinctual legilimency to discover his identity._

"_John Winchester."_

* * *

NOW…

"John Winchester," Harry greeted, covering his surprise.

"You must be Sam's college friend," John returned.

"John," Bobby said blandly.

The eldest Winchester nodded back at him. "Been a long time, Bobby."

"Last time was almost a year ago, I think," Bobby said, nodding his head in agreement. "Don't think we parted on good terms though. Certainly not good enough for you to just show up out of the blue."

To John's credit he didn't look away from the accusation. "I think you said something about shooting me the next time you saw me."

Bobby merely spit in response.

"So," John said with a slightly nervous laugh, "I guess I should ask if you still want to shoot me?"

Harry sent a questioning glance at Bobby. "You really threatened to shoot him?"

Bobby shrugged. "Nothing personal. I threaten to shoot most everybody eventually."

"You never threatened to shoot me," Harry pointed out.

"Day's not over yet, boy," Bobby answered.

John laughed from the foot of the stairs.

"So," he said, turning his full attention to Harry. "I hear you fought a demon."

Harry nodded.

"Want to explain how you're still alive and kicking?"

Harry's eyes widened at the aggressive tone in John Winchester's voice.

"Why don't we take this inside?" Bobby suggested. He held the door open for Harry and John, before leading them into the kitchen.

John continued to eye Harry in evaluation. Harry wondered what John thought he could learn about him just by observing him. That he had an ugly scar on his head? That he was an okay dresser? That he stumbled when he knew people were watching him?

"Relax, son," Bobby advised him silently. "John ain't gonna bite ya. At least not when he can shoot ya instead."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "No offense, Mr. Winchester, but from all the stories I've heard you're a pretty intimidating man."

"Call me, John," he replied. "And no ass kissing, kid. Ain't going to help you make a better impression. At least not with me anyways."

"So you want to know about the demon that attacked us?" Harry asked.

John nodded, leaning back into his chair. "Tell me everything."

It took Harry the better part of an hour to retell the story to John. He stumbled through his lies a few times, but having already told the edited version to the man's sons had been good practice. As far as he could tell, John had bought the story. It might even have gained him a little respect from the man.

"Again."

Harry quirked his eyebrows. "I'm sorry?"

"Tell me again," John ordered.

Harry shot an anxious glance at Bobby, who nodded back at him.

"Okay," Harry said, taking a deep breath before launching into the tale once again.

John leaned back in his seat and studied the young man across from him. He'd noticed the way that Bobby had protected the kid, so he couldn't be all bad. Bobby was a pretty hard hunter to fool, and an even harder man to get attached to others. Add that to the fact that his youngest had befriended him… John had a nagging desire to figure out what made this Potter kid so special.

John could tell that his son's roommate was lying, keeping something from him. Granted, it was only because John himself was such a good liar that he could read through the kids bullshit. John wasn't sure if the kid was just shaken up over the whole demon thing or if he was actively keeping something hidden, but until John found out he wasn't giving Harry the benefit of a doubt.

This kid had so far worked his way into Sam's room, Bobby's house, and had now met John face to face. If he was connected to the demon, he was a serious threat. John only knew of one way to deal with a threat.

It wasn't until halfway through the kid's retelling of the story that John felt the kid relax. It was right when he was talking about his boys being gone that John felt the warmth in his voice. This kid really did care about his sons… or at least was damn convincing of that fact.

John went completely still as Missouri's voice filled his memory. _Did you know that one of your sons is sleeping with a man?_ Suddenly the warmth in Potter's voice when describing his sons' absence took on a whole new meaning.

When Harry was done telling the story, John looked to Bobby. "Mind giving us a moment, Bobby?"

Bobby looked John up and down before turning to nod at Harry. He pushed his chair back from the table and walked out of the room muttering something about being bossed around in his own home.

"So," John said once Bobby was out of earshot. "Which of my sons are you sleeping with?"

Harry's heart leapt into his throat, his voice coming out high pitched and nervous. "Excuse me?"

"My sons," John said slower, as if speaking to a small child. "Which one of them are you sleeping with?"

"What makes you think I've been doing such a thing?"

"You are gay, are you not?"

Harry was quickly losing his patience with John Winchester. He hadn't been lying when he said how much Dean and Sam's stories had intimidated him. There was little doubt in his mind that Dean had gotten his "jerk gene" from his father.

"So what if I am?" he shot back at John.

"My sons are attractive are they not?" John responded, ignoring Harry's aggression. "And you are Sam's college roommate. My guess is that Sam took to the idea that college is for experimentation."

"Sam?" Harry incredulously. "Sam can barely flirt with girls let alone be ballsy enough to hit on his roommate."

John smirked. "Your sense of humor is right up Dean's alley, then."

Harry used every last ounce of his Occlumency skills to not give anything away. If only Occlumency could control his biological reaction when it came to Dean: intense blushing.

John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Well, well, well. So Dean finally went through all the women in the country and is now on to men."

Harry stood up from the table and leaned menacingly towards John. "I'd watch what you say about your son, John."

The old hunter put his hands up to stave off Harry's anger. "No offense was meant. I just want to know someone who knows my son so… intimately. Surely you can understand that?"

"That's not what's so hard to understand about all of this," Harry said, turning the tables on the man. "What I can't wrap my head around is a father so dedicated to his sons that he tracks down one of their romantic counterparts but can't pick up the phone to ask them how they're doing. How can a father not even call his own son when his fiancée is murdered? What kind of father are you?"

_So much for trying to make a good first impression_, Harry thought to himself.

"How dare you presume to lecture me about my own sons!" John thundered, rising to stand at Harry's height.

"How dare you pretend that you give a damn about them," Harry shouted back. "Especially when we both know the only reason you're here is to drill me for information on that demon!"

John threw an arm out at Harry. Harry didn't think twice about his reaction. He grabbed John's outstretched arm and dragged the man face down on the tabletop. He put his elbow at the back of the man's head and pulled the arm up hard. John grunted in pain.

As soon as Harry released him, John spun away from the table and reached for his gun.

"I wouldn't do that, John," Bobby said loudly, walking in the room with his shotgun aimed at John's center frame.

Harry looked at the two men holding their weapons.

"Gonna shoot me, Bobby?" John asked wryly.

"There are just so few opportunities to do it," Bobby quipped. "Might as well take this one. Of course, I wouldn't have to if you'd be reasonable."

John nodded and put his weapon away. "I'll say this for you, Potter, you can take care of yourself."

"Yet another reason Dean likes me," Harry said snarkily. John cracked a rare smile. It only looked menacing to Harry.

"I'll just be on my way then."

Bobby moved aside to let John pass him. The men waited in silence until they heard the front door open and then close.

Harry let out the breath he was holding. "Think he was really going to shoot me?"

Bobby shrugged. "Probably not. John's reasonable side usually takes over eventually. His damn temper just doesn't know when to give it up already."

"I can't wait to tell Dean that I beat up his Dad," Harry muttered in mock eagerness.

"I think he'll be more concerned over the fact that his Dad knows about the two of you," Bobby pointed out.

Harry paled. "You knew?"

"Well, even if I hadn't been listening in on your conversation with John, I would have known." Bobby set his shotgun on the table. "You and Dean aren't exactly subtle little lovebirds."

"Great, more good news to tell Dean." Harry sat back down at the table in defeat. "Does Sam know?"

"Nah," Bobby answered reassuringly. "That kids got enough on his plate to figure you and Dean out. Poor boy."

"You don't mind that Dean and I are…" Harry trailed off, letting the silence speak for itself.

"What, fucking like monkeys under my roof?" Bobby finished for him. "What do I care? Just as long as you clean your own sheets and you don't wake me up, you can do what you want."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"No problem, kid. Just, if you don't mind me saying so, I think you and Dean better fill Sam in on all this. Better he hears it from you than walks in on it."

Harry nodded. "I'll talk to Dean when he gets back."

"You better."

* * *

As it turned out, the brothers never made it back to Bobby's that week. Dean phoned from the road to fill him in. One of Sam's friends from school had been accused of murder. Harry vaguely remembered the student, Zach, as being Sam's other buddy at the weight room.

After some not so gentle prodding from Bobby, Harry had decided to drive out and meet the boys at Stanford. He hadn't anticipated them being in the middle of a hunt.

When he got to Santa Clara County, he found the boys at their motel room. Sam was in the shower and Dean was pacing around the small room. Dean smelled awful and his whole body was covered in grime. A pile of similarly dirty apparel was by the bathroom door.

"Having fun, Dean?"

Dean glared at him from across the room. He sent a cautionary glance at the bathroom door before marching over to steal a kiss. Harry held up both hands and backed away from Dean.

"Whoa there, stinky," Harry warned. "You're not coming near me until you've hit the shower."

"Come on," Dean whined, "I haven't seen or touched you in a week. Sam's on emotional overload over being back at Stanford. Plus, I had to track a fucking shape shifter down the sewer."

"A shape shifter?" Harry asked, eyes wide. "Bobby says those are really rare, like a genetic defect but in monsters."

Dean nodded, a prideful tone in his voice. "Impressive. Bobby's really letting you read all those books of his, I guess."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "and it's just _so_ much fun. I get to stay at home and read while you two get some action in the actual field."

"Days like today that doesn't seem like such a bad deal," Dean said, pointedly peeling off his top.

"How is Sam holding up?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I told you about that town doing human sacrifices with that scarecrow, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but you conveniently left out the part where you were a dick to Sam and _that's_ why he took off."

Dean shrugged it off. "That's not the point. After he took off, Sam met some chick named Meg at the train station. He's been talking about her non-stop. It's driving me crazy."

The sound of the water from the shower died down.

"Guess it's my turn."

Harry sat on the bed with Dean's duffel on it. Harry mouthed a silent 'I missed you' to Dean as Sam opened the bathroom door.

Harry gave a wolfish whistle at Sam's appearance. His friend had certainly not lost his excellent muscle tone since being away from Stanford.

"Oh, hey, Harry." Sam blushed but didn't shy away from changing in front of them.

Dean glared at Harry, who responded with an innocent smile. "I think the shower's free, Dean."

"Yeah, I got that," Dean muttered testily as he stepped into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

"What's up his butt?" Sam asked as he slid on a fresh pair of jeans.

"Just upset he didn't catch the shape shifter and basically went down into a sewer for nothing," Harry responded, falling backward onto the bed. "This bed sucks."

"It's a motel room, Harry, not a 5 star hotel."

Harry tactfully kept his comment to himself that Dean's bed would be much more comfortable with Dean actually in it.

"Sorry to just burst in on your quality brother time," Harry apologized as Sam finished dressing and began drying his hair. "I was feeling a little cooped up at Bobby's without you two."

Sam stopped his efforts with his hair and gave Harry an evaluating look. It made Harry feel extremely self-conscious. "What, Sam?"

Sam shot a look at the closed bathroom door. "Harry I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay."

"It's about you and Dean."

Harry gulped, suddenly wishing that he hadn't rushed Dean into the shower and left himself alone with Sam. _Did he know about them? Where had they slipped up? They'd been so careful!_

"What about Dean… and I?"

"First off, don't take this personally, Harry," Sam began, taking a seat on his bed. "But you're kind of a flirt."

Harry snorted. "Maybe a little."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Girls seem to go kind of ga-ga over my brother, and I noticed you kind of had a thing for him, too."

"Oh."

"Yes, exactly," Sam agreed, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. "I just didn't want you to put too much energy into Dean. He's 100% into girls… at least for the last decade or so, if you catch my drift."

Harry nodded. "Don't worry, Sam, I have no doubt as to Dean's attraction level to me."

Sam looked relieved at that. "Good, I was afraid he'd break your heart or something. Wouldn't want my best friend and my brother going at it, would I?"

_Define 'going at it', Sam,_ Harry thought to himself. Then he added aloud, "No worries, Sam."

The sound of the water being shut off emerged from the bathroom.

"Let's just keep this between us," Sam suggested.

_Fat chance,_ Harry thought, but nodded anyway. _Dean is going to think this is hilarious._

Dean emerged from the shower, considerably cleaner, and looked at the grin on Harry's face.

"What's got him all excited?" he asked Sam, gathering his change of clothes.

"Nothing."

Harry grimaced slightly at Sam's poor attempt to lie. Whenever Sam told a little lie he always answered to quickly. Judging by the look on Dean's face, Harry could tell he'd caught the lie as well.

Dean put his back to Sam and gave Harry a look that clearly said they would be discussing the incident later. Harry smiled reassuringly before glancing down at his lover's body. Harry smirked at Dean, who licked his lips in return. Sam remained unaware of the exchange from behind Dean's back.

"So," Harry said, changing topics, "you guys want some help with the shape shifter?"

"No," Dean said at the same time Sam said, "Sure."

"Or not," Sam added, sending an apologetic glance Harry's way.

"Fine, fine," Harry said, making himself comfortable on Dean's bed. "I get it. No one wants the rookie around until Bobby gives the okay."

Dean nodded. "Damn right."

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Harry," Sam responded more diplomatically. "We think he's picking up couples at this bar downtown, then morphing into one of them. It seduces the other one and then kills them."

Harry grimaced. "That sucks."

Dean finished getting dressed and pulled out his gun.

"That's why you're staying here. The less people there are hunting this thing, the less chance it nabs one of their forms."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I'll be right here, waiting."

* * *

Four hours later and Dean was getting bored.

For the last couple of hours Sam and Dean had been scoping out the local dance club and bar that the shape shifter had been picking up victims at. Sam had been a spoilsport and wouldn't let Dean drink on the job, even after it had hit happy hour.

Dean took another sweep of the club, looking for anyone acting like a lion among a pack of gazelles. Sam theorized that a shifter would be someone very attractive in order to lure worthy prey. Dean shuddered at the description. Sam had also printed out pictures of the previous victims just in case the shifter had fallen back into an earlier skin suit.

"Dean?" Sam asked, grabbing his attention.

Dean swung his head in his brother's direction, but otherwise didn't comment.

Sam sighed. "You're still not talking to me?"

Dean huffed a bit but kept his mouth shut. He'd let his brother answer his own damn questions.

"Would you stop being a mime if I buy you a drink?" Sam inquired, passing his brother a full shot glass.

Dean eyed the proffered drink with interest. "What is it?"

"Jim Bean," Sam said, humor lighting his eyes now that Dean was responding.

Dean downed the shot in one gulp and tossed the empty glass to his brother. "I might forgive you if I get a refill."

Sam chuckled. "How about we buy a bottle on the way back to motel room? I'm sure Harry's getting bored out of his mind waiting on us."

Dean didn't need to be asked twice. He scooped up his coat and glided his way through the dancing bodies. Within minutes he was inhaling cool night air.

"I guess that meant you were ready to leave," Sam commented dryly as he followed his brother to the Impala.

"Damn right," Dean muttered.

"Where'd you put that cooler, Dean?" Sam asked as Dean unlocked the Impala.

Dean unlocked the trunk to get the cooler, but paused when he felt the trunk open easily. "What the hell…"

Dean released the trunk hood and felt his body go cold as he saw his little brother's body piled inside. Dean went for his gun but the shifter, already disguised as Sam, knocked him over the head and shoved him into the trunk on top of his brother.

"Hunters," the shifter muttered disgustedly in Sam's voice. "Always the same."

* * *

When Dean regained consciousness he immediately began scanning his surroundings. He felt the restraints that had him shackled to the large cement pillar behind him. It was obvious that the shifter had brought him underground someplace, most likely a sewer maintenance room.

He heard something moving across the room from him.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered out into the darkness.

"Dean?"

A bright light turned on overhead. The sudden illumination hurt Dean's eyes. A figure moved into the room.

Dean watched Sam's eyes widened in recognition. "Zach?"

"Not quite," the figure replied, a triumphant smirk planted on his face.

"You're the shifter," Dean pointed out.

"You'll have to forgive the meager accommodations, boys," the shifter informed them. "I'm not used to taking captives. I'm more of the love them, kill them, leave them type."

"So why keep us alive, then?" Sam questioned angrily.

"Don't be so ungrateful, Sam," the shifter replied, stroking Sam's check. "I was planning on having you skin your brother alive, but I was forced to change my plans to include your little friend."

"Little friend?" Dean asked.

"Harry," the shifter responded. "I believe you are familiar with him, Dean."

"Leave him out of this," Sam demanded.

"Sorry, can't," the shifter replied. "I owed an old friend a favor. I believe you know him. He's got yellow eyes and a disposition for women on ceilings."

"What does he want with Harry?" Dean demanded, panic flooding his veins.

"What else? Death, I'm sure." The shifter stepped over to Dean. "I'm going to need one of your bodies to get to him. I've heard he can be quite feisty. I'm looking forward to the challenge… not to mention he's pretty hot. I might like this job."

"And then what happens to us?"

The shifter laughed. "Take a wild guess."

Sam glared at the shifter.

"You've got a bit of spitfire in you, Sammy," the shifter complimented him. "Tell me, did you and Harry ever make things… interesting?"

"You're disgusting."

"Oh, come on, don't get all offended on me," the shifter said, waving his hands dismissively. "Is it really so out of line to suggest that you and your stud of a best friend had a little hook up?"

"Screw you," Sam grit out angrily.

"You mean to tell me that Harry's been your roommate for the last three years and you never thought about fucking him? That your dead girlfriend never brought up the idea of a threesome?"

Sam started cursing so much that the shifter placed a gag over his mouth again.

"You have more control than me, Sammy boy."

"What about you, Dean?" the shifter asked, moving his attention to the older brother. "Ever think about getting feisty with a younger man?"

"I'm more of a ladies man."

"So I've heard." The shifter smirked at him. "But there's something off about you, Dean. I think you've made an exception to your 'ladies only' policy."

Dean tried to ignore the look Sam was giving him.

"No matter, I'll know soon enough."

The shifter knelt down and placed his mouth on Deans. The shifter used its supernatural strength to force Dean's mouth open. Behind the shifter, Sam struggled with his bonds.

As soon as the shifter released his mouth, Dean spat at him. He smiled as he realized he'd nailed the creature right in the eye.

The creature retaliated by punching Dean in the face. His skull erupted with pain, and he tasted blood.

"And here I thought I was being such a generous host by taking your DNA in such a pleasant manner."

"I'd rather an anal swab," Dean shot back.

"You still might get one."

Dean was about to reply when the creature began to shake uncontrollably. The shape shifters skin began to bubble, as if the skin was being steamed from the inside. The shifter removed his dress shirt. Bones cracked and shifted, rib cages relocated. The shifters hair grew out to mimic Dean's own locks of hair. Teeth fell onto the cement floor en masse. The shifter moaned at the obvious pain.

When the shape shifter stood back up, Dean found himself staring at an exact duplicate of himself.

"How do I look?" the shifter asked Dean.

"Like you fill in your pant size for once in your pathetic life."

Dean blacked out from the retaliating blow the shifter sent his way.

Sam struggled against the restraints, taking the shifters attention away from an unconscious Dean.

"Easy, Sammy," the shifter said, removing the gag. "Scream too loud and I'll shut you up again."

"Don't call me Sammy," Sam said outraged. "Only Dean can call me that."

"Uh, hello?" the shifter replied, showing off his new body. "I _am_ Dean Winchester. I _am_ your brother, Sammy."

"You're not him," Sam insisted.

"Not completely, not yet," the shifter admitted. "I'll be a better brother to you than he ever was, Sammy. You'll see that."

"Dean practically raised me. There is no better brother."

"So loyal to him," tutted the shifter sadly. "After all the lies he's told you. I wouldn't lie to you, Sammy, not ever. _Real _brothers tell each other everything."

"He does tell me everything."

"Oh, really?" the shifter asked, clearly doubtful. "Did he tell you that he's dating someone? I think you'd be very interested to know who it is."

"You don't know Dean very well if you think he's the monogamous type," said Sam dryly. "Dating isn't even in his vocabulary."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sammy," the real Dean grumbled. He scrunched up his forehead, grimacing in pain.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," the shifter greeted him. "I was just letting our brother in our dirty little secret."

Dean glared at him. "He's full of shit, Sammy. Don't listen to anything he says."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I got that."

"If you ask me, our brother already knows." The shifter touched Sam's face gently. "He has to have noticed the change in us lately. How much harder we fight to stay alive. The way we've so quickly taken to our new friend. The information we seem to know, but have no plausible explanation for knowing."

Sam looked at Dean, his face betraying the truth in the shifters words. Dean pleaded with his eyes for Sam not to believe the shifter. He needed his brother to hear it from him and not some freak trying to hurt him.

"I guess I did choose the right body to visit Harry with," the shifter said, confirming Sam's suspicions. "I'm sure he'll open himself to me willingly… at least at first. I'm told I can be a little rough."

Dean snarled at him and struggled against his bindings. "I'm going to kill you."

"Through our mental link I can see that you really mean that, Dean," the shifter said, feigning hurt. "But I don't think suicide is a healthy option."

The fake Dean pulled Dean's leather jacket on, and showed the brothers the motel key. The shifter left the chamber, calling out casually behind him, "I'll give Harry your best… in more ways than one."

When Dean realized the shifter was gone he stopped struggling against his bindings. He made eye contact with his brother.

Sam looked away.

* * *

Harry awoke to the feeling of a teasing hand stroking his stomach. He felt a warm body pressed up against his back. A hungry mouth sucked on his neck.

"Good morning to you, too," Harry said lightly. He reached back and trailed his hand down to Dean's ass.

Dean wrapped an arm around Harry waist, pulling him closer. "I've been thinking about kissing you all day."

Harry smirked. "You've been hunting while thinking about kissing me? And that turns you on, Dean?"

Dean just smiled in response, causing Harry's stomach to do flips.

Moving rapidly, before Dean could change his mind, Harry scooted even closer to him. He slipped one arm around Dean's shoulders and used his free hand to guide Dean's face towards his. Just before their lips met Harry asked, "Kissing me like this?"

Dean nodded eagerly. When Harry gently pressed his mouth against Dean's, Harry could feel Dean's lower lip quiver. He broke the kiss. "It's okay," Harry murmured. "I've been thinking about this all day, too."

Dean must have wanted to dispute the assessment that he was nervous, because he boldly captured Harry's lips again, pulling Harry closer and deepening the kiss. Dean's kisses were sloppy in his eagerness, which Harry didn't mind because they felt so damn good. It was like the first time in the Impala all over again.

Harry coaxed Dean's tongue into his mouth and sucked on it. His arm slid down Dean's back in a gentle caress, while his free hand brushed against the back of his neck.

Needing air, Harry pushed Dean away. "Bloody hell, Dean. What's gotten into you?"

Dean trailed his tongue along Harry's jaw line, finding the hollow of his neck and sucking hard. Judging from the ensuing moan, Harry wouldn't mind postponing that line of questioning until another time. Harry placed a tentative hand on Dean's chest and began to move it slowly as Dean laved his throat. As his fingers drifted towards Dean's waist, Dean's wrist brushed the tip of Harry's erection.

Harry raised his head to find Dean's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"This body really does turn you on, doesn't it?" Dean asked him.

"Fishing for compliments, Dean?" Harry retorted.

Dean shrugged. "Something like that."

A grin played at the corners of Dean's mouth. Reaching down to grasp the hem of Harry's top, Dean pulled it briskly over Harry's head in one smooth motion and then threw it on the floor. The newly exposed skin was silky soft beneath Dean's fingertips, with just a hint of gooseflesh on his lower arms. Dean laid a trail of kisses from Harry's mouth down to his navel and then back up to his chest. He worried Harry's nipple with the tip of his tongue until the younger man let out a stifled moan.

When Harry returned the favor, Dean jerked in surprise at the sensitivity of his nipples. Usually Dean was more prepared for Harry's tongue.

"Shush, Dean," Harry warned. "Sammy's going to hear you."

"So?"

"So?" Harry echoed the question with a deep laugh. "Since when are you Mr. Voyeur in this relationship?"

Dean kissed his collarbone. "Since I told Sam about us."

Harry took a moment to realize what Dean had said. "You what?"

"I love that shocked look on your face," Dean said, kissing Harry's cheek. "It reminds me of the first time I climbed inside of you."

"Dean. Focus." Harry gripped his face tightly. "You told Sam about us?"

Dean made a thoughtful face. "Well, lets just say I pointed him in the right direction. He did the rest on his own."

"What did he say?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Don't worry," Dean reassured him. "He'll be fine. He loves us right?"

Harry nodded. "Of course."

"Good." Dean slid down Harry's body until his face rested against the bulge in Harry's crotch. "Now where were we?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You usually don't like to be the one doing that particular job."

"It's just a little odd to be sucking on something like that, considering yours is the only one I've ever wanted to do that with." Dean grinned.

"But now you're good with that?"

"Let's just say that there's nothing I want more from you right now than to taste your DNA."

Dean's mouth and tongue went to work and Harry gripped the bed sheets, muscles flexing in pleasure. Harry never saw the moonlight catch Dean's eyes and the strange color that illuminated them.

* * *

Sam watched as Dean began rotating his bindings around the stone columns behind him. He heard the scraping sounds of the ropes slowly being worn down.

"I think I've got a cut in this stone," Dean announced proudly, frantically rotating the rope.

Sam didn't say anything. His mind kept flashing back to the last few weeks since Harry and Dean had met. His thoughts focused on the innocent touches between his brother and his friend. He remembered how odd it was that Harry had made banana pancakes, Dean's favorite, for breakfast. Dean didn't get along with that many people off the bat. Poor Sam had thought he had been lucky to have a friend even Dean would take a liking to.

Then Sam's memory flashed on something he'd long forgotten: an Impala parked down the street from his RL house over a year ago. He'd wondered but…

"You've been seeing Harry for a long time haven't you?" Sam asked.

Dean stopped his escape efforts for a moment before vigorously returning to them. Dean did not appear to be about to answer.

"Dean?"

"What?" Dean snapped. "That thing is going after Harry. We can discuss this later. Don't you want to save your best friend, Sam? Or do you not care about him anymore?"

Sam swallowed. Sure, he was hurt that they'd kept their relationship from him, but he didn't want Harry to die. He also knew that Dean's question was not only talking about how Sam felt about Harry now that the truth was out.

He nodded at Dean to continue.

"I hope he's okay."

* * *

Dean did not let up on his ministrations until Harry had climaxed. Dean drank in all of him.

Dean kissed a return trail up Harry's stomach and chest to finally bury his face in the comfort of Harry's neck. "I love you, Harry."

Harry's entire body went rigid.

"You what?" he asked breathlessly.

Dean put his mouth at the entrance to Harry's ear and whispered softly, "You heard me. I'm in love with you… although I think that means you'd have to love me back."

Harry's breathing accelerated. "I do. I have for awhile now."

They kissed again. Harry tasted himself on Dean's tongue.

"I wish I could keep this up forever," Dean admitted.

"If I remember correctly, that's not really an issue for you," Harry replied, sending a loving grin at his partner.

"That's not what I meant."

Harry turned a confused gaze on Dean. "What did you mean?"

Dean held his gaze before his eyes flickered and changed to some kind of reflective sheath covering. The shifter, dressed in Dean's skin, reared back and punched Harry with all of his supernatural strength. Harry was shocked by the sudden blow and collapsed on the ground. He was too stunned to block the follow up blows that the shape shifter sent his way.

Soon all Harry knew was darkness, pain and betrayal.

The shifter reached into his coat, Dean's coat, and withdrew a large syringe. He popped the top off with his mouth, pushed out an air bubble, and located a vein in Harry's skin. The needle sunk deep into the vein and released its toxins.

"Azazel says hello," the shifter whispered into the dark room. The shifter reached for the nearest lamp and flicked it on and off in a quick pattern, providing a signal for his compatriots in the parking lot.

A moment later there was a knock against the door. The shifter didn't bother getting up from his crouched position.

"Come in, demon," he greeted.

The door swung open of its own accord. The shifter hadn't bothered to lock it when he'd first arrived.

Meg entered and immediately surveyed the damage done to the wizard.

"You've done well," Meg complimented him, before taking note of Harry's naked form and the ruffled bed sheets. "And I see you've been rewarded already."

The shifter grinned. "Your father was right, Meg. He was quite a challenge, a welcome one at that."

Meg shook her head in disgust. "You idiot, that's not what he meant. The human is a powerful witch. He's been giving powers directly from a demon... for keeps."

The shifter eyed his latest lover with renewed interest. "Oh, really?"

"Too bad you didn't get his DNA," Meg teased as she levitated Harry's body out the door. "You might have been pleased with the result."

"Yes," the shifter nodded sadly. "Too bad."

The shifter waited until Meg had floated the witch's body into the parking lot before beginning his change. He had wanted to enjoy his time as Dean for a time longer. With such an enticing body he could have had anyone he wanted.

But a witch granted the full use of their master's powers was too tempting a form to pass up… possibly one worth remaining in if the power level was high enough. It was rare, but if a demon's servant was so highly rewarded that they were given full powers than the abilities were infused into their bodies… their DNA.

The shift was over by the time that Meg had returned.

"So you did get some of his juices, then?" Meg inquired, seeing his change in form.

"Couldn't help myself," the shifter grinned evily, before a flame erupted in the palm of his hand. "And now no one can help _you_."

Meg's face froze. "My father will be most displeased if something happened to me."

The shifter shrugged. "With this amount of power, you're father would be well advised to deal with it and not pursue me. Maybe I just have to demonstrate how dangerous I can be?"

Meg dove to the side to avoid the fireball that erupted at the doorway. Meg sent a mental pulse at the shifter and was satisfied when she heard his body hit something hard.

She entered the room at an inhuman speed and fired at the shifter. The first bullet, silver, caught the Harry doppelganger in the shoulder. The second and third entered his heart.

She checked the shape shifters pulse and felt nothing. She smiled at her now deceased accomplice.

"You stupid fool," she commented mockingly. "I can't believe you thought you'd gotten one over on me after all these years. You were always going to have to take Harry's form. How else would I get the Winchesters to not chase after their little friend? After all, if they think he's dead, why would they look for him?"

Meg grabbed Harry's bag from the corner and hiked it over her shoulder. She channeled her father's power and set the room into a blaze before marching out of the door. She opened the trunk and tossed the duffel bag next to Harry's prone body. Just as she pulled out of the parking lot, an Impala rounded the other corner.

Meg smiled as she watched the Winchester brothers enter the motel parking lot in her rearview mirror, the flames distracting them.

They'd never know how close they came to saving their friend.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I believe I mentioned last time something about cliffhangers? Well… there you go :)

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'd like to remind you that I did say the episode order would be changed up a bit. Just so you won't be surprised by the plot for the next chapter.

I know I'll get a few questions on Meg's "plan" from this chapter, but basically here's the gist of things: Meg and Azazel realized they needed to keep Harry unconscious or else he'd be able to use his powers… thus, they needed someone who could get close to him: a shifter taking the form of someone he trusted.

Having the shifter take Harry's form, and then killing him, makes the brothers believe he's dead at the shifters hands. Meg believes that the brothers will be distracted by their hunt for the shifter that took Harry's form to look too closely at the situation.

And while they're distracted, Harry has the honor (and extreme displeasure) of being Azazel and Meg's guest, who are very interested in him and his abilities.

I hope this helped to clarify a few things.

The next chapter, playfully titled _"Bait Is Such A Strong Word"_ will be posted sometime in the next two weeks when I've had a few days to recuperate from my finals. After that, updates will be MUCH more frequent through the months of December and January. Although I could be persuaded to ignore my finals and write some more... only if people really wanted me to, I guess ;)

Don't forget to let me know what you thought of the chapter by leaving a REVIEW!!!


	10. Do No Charm

**Disclaimer:**Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize, and is original material, is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to get this chapter out there. I did warn everyone that it might take a bit due to my finals. Regardless, I do apologize for my prolonged absence. It shall not happen again.

I'm not sure how many of you check my profile for information (I know I check author's profiles when I'm waiting for an update) but I usually try to keep information on updates there. For those of you who didn't see my message there, I realized that my original version of chapter 9 was going to be quite large (MASSIVE) and take forever to finish. In light of this information, I decided to split the chapter into two shorter chapters. This way it's easier to get through, the story is a little longer, and (most importantly) everyone gets a faster update!

Don't forget to check out the Author's Note at the end of the chapter for more information… and an exciting tidbit on the sequel :)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Also, **WARNING **for **INTENSE VIOLENCE** in this chapter.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 9:  
"****Do No Charm"**

"I tried to break away, but I didn't stand a chance.  
She planned it so well, I was under her spell; I was in a trance.  
I call out her name, I turn around to find her; she's a spellbinder."

- Foreigner, _Spellbinder_

THEN…

_Meg checked the shape shifters pulse and felt nothing. She smiled at her now deceased accomplice._

"_You stupid fool," she commented mockingly. "I can't believe you thought you'd gotten one over on me after all these years. You were always going to have to take Harry's form. How else would I get the Winchesters to not chase after their little friend? After all, if they think he's dead, why would they look for him?"_

_Meg grabbed Harry's bag from the corner and hiked it over her shoulder. She channeled her father's power and set the room into a blaze before marching out of the door. She opened the trunk and tossed the duffel bag next to Harry's prone body. Just as she pulled out of the parking lot, an Impala rounded the other corner._

_Meg smiled as she watched the Winchester brothers enter the motel parking lot in her rearview mirror, the flames distracting them. _

_They'd never know how close they came to saving their friend._

* * *

NOW…

Dean didn't speak to Sam the entire ride back to Bobby's. No music was played. Sam was barely able to get him to eat at any of the fast food places they stopped at.

Dean ignored the worried looks his younger brother continuously sent his way. Dean knew he should be concerned about how Sam was handling Harry's murder but he couldn't bring himself to push past his own grief. He hadn't even fought when Sam had ordered him to hand over the keys to the Impala. Dean had just held them out limply and climbed into the passenger seat.

All Dean could see were the flames dancing in front of his eyes, the flames that covered Harry's body in thick sheets. By the time they'd arrived back at the motel room Harry's body had already begun to turn black from the intense heat. The sound of approaching fire trucks and police sirens had forced them to flee with whatever was on them. Dean hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

Now the image of Harry on fire was all he could see. Every memory of Harry that he held dear now ended in an all-consuming inferno. The memory of Harry's wet lips on his own now tasted only of ashes. The feeling of Harry's nimble fingers on his back as Dean entered him for the first time had turned from silky skin to brittle burns. Harry's warm breath tickling his skin as they cuddled at Bobby's was now hot enough to burn. All his memories were ruined now, and Harry was the only one who could make it better again.

"Is this what it was like for you, Sam?"

Sam nearly swerved into oncoming traffic he was so startled by Dean breaking the silence. He'd tried for days to get his brother to even mumble something, let alone speak a full sentence.

"What was what like, Dean?" Sam asked, gaining control of the car and himself.

"When you saw Jess," Dean whispered, his voice hoarse and crackly from using it so sparingly. "When that _thing_ killed her."

Sam visible flinched, making Dean feel even guiltier for breaking his silence. Eventually Sam nodded.

"You were right, Sam, we are cursed."

Both brothers allowed the silence to fill the car again, each lost in the thoughts and memories of lost loves taken too early.

* * *

When Harry awoke he was facedown on a dusty stone floor. The stone tablets were cool against his face. His vision was blurred as if he'd been out all night drinking. In fact, the world's worst hangover would be the perfect way to describe the pain in his head upon waking. The metal chains clinging to his skin led him to believe he had not, in fact, been out drinking all night.

As soon as Harry sat up a bright light turned on above him. The light was nearly blinding but formed a perfect circle that spread illuminated a 10-foot area in every direction around him. What lay beyond the radius of the light remained in complete darkness, but Harry could hear someone shuffling about in the darkness.

"Hello?" he asked tentatively, keeping his voice low.

A pair of blood red leather high-heeled boots appeared at the edge of the circle. The owner stopped for a moment, presumably to study Harry, before entering the fully illuminated section of the room. Harry stared up at his captor, a young blonde woman in jeans and a tight t-shirt.

"Hello, Harry," the woman greeted before her eyes turned black. Harry resisted the urge to draw back in disgust.

"It would seem you have me at a disadvantage," Harry said smartly.

"In more ways than one," the woman chuckled, lifting up the metal chains that connected his wrists to the stone floor beneath them.

"I meant that I have no idea who you are," Harry continued, reaching out his right hand in greeting. "Obviously I'm Harry, and that makes you…"

The woman dropped the metal, letting the weight of the chains pull Harry's outstretched hand down with them. "You can call me Meg."

Something in Harry's brain clicked. He remembered Dean being annoyed by Sam's constant talking about some woman he met on the road named Meg. Harry wondered if this was the same woman that Sam had been so enchanted by.

"Dean and Sam will come for me," Harry informed her. "Or is that what you're counting on?"

Meg smirked. "Sadly, you've been misinformed. The dear Winchester offspring believe you to be dead. My condolences."

"They're smarter than that. They'll see through whatever you've rigged up."

"Even if we left behind a dead shifter that was in your form?" Meg teased. "You think they'll see through _that?_"

"Their smart guys, _Meg_," Harry snapped. "They'll know it's a possibility."

"Doubtful," Meg sighed, rolling her eyes. "Besides, if they do ever figure it out _and_ manage to find us… well, we have enough fire power to take them out."

"Dean's gonna snap your neck, bitch, and I can't wait to see it happen."

Meg suddenly leaned forward and smashed her lips roughly against Harry's. When Harry didn't respond to the advance she bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood. When she finally pulled away from his bloodied lip, Harry could see the bloodstains on her teeth.

"Your know that you're kind of sick in the head, right?"

Meg smiled brightly. "You'll last longer than the others, I'm sure of it. Too bad for you."

"Last longer through what?" Harry asked.

"That's enough," commanded a stern voice from the shadows.

Meg obediently backed away from Harry. Harry turned to look his second captor in the eyes and found that they were bright yellow. Harry's body surged against his metallic bindings as hatred and vengeance pulsed through his veins.

"I'm going to kill you!" Harry screamed, lifting the chains enough to stand and move towards the demon that had killed one of his best friends. He made it almost five feet before the chain ran out of slack and he was harshly jerked back to the floor. For his part, Azazel merely shrugged as if the threat hardly mattered to him.

"That's a perfectly understandable reaction, Harry," Azazel responded, stepping into the room. Meg procured a chair from beyond the darkness of Harry's prison. Azazel sat almost regally in the cheap, worn out furniture.

From his slumped position on the floor Harry raised a hand and cast a slicing charm directly at Azazel's throat. Harry frowned in confusion when nothing happened to Azazel.

"Problem getting it up, Harry?" Meg taunted knowingly from beside Azazel.

"What have you done?" Harry demanded, already casting more curses at his captors. On his fifth banishing charm the metal around his wrist turned bright red as it burned him.

"It works," Azazel confirmed to Meg. "You may leave us."

Harry kept his teeth clenched as the hot metal scalded the skin of his wrist. He would not give these demons the satisfaction of his screams.

"What are these things?" Harry demanded once Meg had left the circle of light.

"The metal chains that keep you confined in this place have a very special history," Azazel explained, eyes resting reverently on Harry's bonds. "They are quite rare and took a number of lives to procure to place them on you today."

"I'm honored," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"They were created by Lucifer during the original uprising in Heaven," Azazel continued as if Harry hadn't spoken. "They were used to imprison Angels in the service of the Lord. You will find that they do not allow the prisoner the use of their non-human abilities against others. In fact, the more you attempt to use them against me the hotter the metal becomes. As I'm sure you've figured out by now."

"I won't tell you anything," Harry informed Azazel, trying not to reveal his panic at not being able to call upon his magic for help.

"I don't expect you to… at first," Azazel said in turn. "The demon that gave you such charming abilities would not have entrusted them to a servant unwilling to die in their devotion; especially not one that would break so quickly under torture. I imagine you will last a long time before giving in."

"I serve no demon."

"I don't suppose I could get you to turn to my cause now?" Azazel asked, before shaking his head. "There are a great many pleasures for serving me. Too many of the others have no respect for their human underlings."

"And you don't?" Harry inquired, disbelief evident in his voice.

"I have enough to employ them against one another," Azazel corrected. "I still believe that the best hope for either of our races is to work together. That's why I'm so interested in you, Harry. I've never before met a human able to contain so many demonic powers without the aid of demon blood. Even with my more potent blood coursing through a human's veins, they still can only hold one or two abilities without causing insanity or death."

"I'm honored," Harry snorted.

Azazel sprung from his seat and backhanded Harry hard across the cheek. The strength of the demon easily broke Harry's cheekbone. Harry spit out a mouthful of blood onto the stone tablet across from him.

"You should not be so petulant about your potential," Azazel barked angrily, "you may very well be the result I've been trying to orchestrate for the last century."

"Is that what this is about?" Harry asked, laughing through his pain. "You're worried some other demon succeeded where you failed?"

Azazel raised another hand to strike at Harry, but he managed to hold himself in check. Instead he caressed Harry's chest with the back of his knuckles in an oddly gentle fashion.

"You could have had such rewards if you'd just cooperated," Azazel said sadly. "Now we'll have to test you the hard way."

Harry grunted as his magic healed the broken cheekbone. Azazel's eyes were glued to the repairing facial injuries.

"Fascinating," he whispered into the darkness.

Harry shuddered at the look in the demon's eyes. Azazel stood and walked to the edge of the illuminated circle that defined Harry's prison.

"If you do manage to break free of your bonds, Harry, I feel it only fair to warn you that in the darkness beyond your prison are your jailors. You would do well not to meet them. They have a very nasty bite."

"I thought these bonds could hold anybody," Harry shot back at Azazel. "Suddenly I'm the exception?"

Azazel grinned evilly. "I think we'll test your endurance first… and that healing ability. I'd get some rest if I were you, Harry. You'll need it for Meg's test tomorrow."

Then Azazel evaporated into the darkness, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts and his pain.

* * *

Dean rolled over onto his stomach and automatically let his left arm stretch away from his body and onto the other side of the bed. He frowned into his pillow when all his grab earned him was a fistful of sheets.

Then he remembered. Harry wasn't sleeping next to him anymore.

For just a moment, in that special time between dreams and consciousness, Dean had managed to forget the ache in his stomach. Dean let his outstretched limb grab hold of Harry's pillow and dragged it to his side. Dean buried his head into Harry's pillow and inhaled deeply.

Dean smiled at the faint scent that could only belong to Harry. The smell was a sweet mixture of his lime and citrus conditioner, dusty books that Bobby had assigned Harry to study, and rain. Dean remembered fondly describing the scent to Harry, who in turn had informed him that Dean smelt of gunpowder and grass stains. This discovery had led to an interesting night of lovemaking that involved a great deal of nose to skin contact.

Dean hugged the pillow tighter at the memory of one of the last times he and Harry had ever had sex. Harry had been pure enthusiasm and spontaneity that night, freely groping and positioning the partners. Big Dean came alive at the memory of one of Harry's new "positions" discovered that night.

Dean let Big Dean trap himself between the pillow and the mattress. He kept his eyes closed, just letting himself smell the last of Harry's scent on the pillow. Dean continued his slow movements within the pillow until he felt a climax building.

"Harry…"

* * *

As it turned out, Meg hadn't waited until the next day to start her testing of Harry's healing abilities.

Within a few hours of Azazel's departure she had returned with a whole bag of items to torture Harry with. It didn't matter how many times Meg claimed the two of them were "just playing", Harry knew what torture was and there was zero doubt in his mind that he was being tortured. Harry could only pray that Azazel hadn't been so careless as to leave him alone with Meg in case she got carried away.

She had started off simply enough, seeming content to enjoy hitting his flesh with just her fists. The books Bobby had provided him on demons had covered the extra strength of a possessed human, but nothing close to Meg's strength. Even after she broke a rib, he still had the gnawing feeling that she was holding back for fear of killing him too early.

Harry's only had two hopes. He either had to hang on long enough for rescue to come or until Azazel's schedule progressed long enough that he needed Harry. Either way he just needed to buy himself as much time as possible. He needed to not break.

Meg seemed happily amused to finally have a victim that healed abnormally fast. She didn't even ask Harry any questions the first few days. Harry continued to let Azazel and Meg harbor the illusion that his powers were linked to a demon. There was no way he would ever reveal that he was a natural born Wizard… it could just be the key to his eventual escape.

Already he'd discovered a flaw in the celestial chains that imprisoned him. Azazel had told him that it prevented him from using his magic on others, but that didn't mean he couldn't use his magic on himself.

Once he figured out how this might help him escape he would only need to figure out how to get past the "jailors" as Azazel had called them. Harry was positive that, if Azazel weren't lying, than his jailors would be a supernatural monster of some kind. At the intervals when Meg wasn't beating the living shit out of him, he heard them moving in the shadows. He still wasn't sure what they were, but he'd figure it out.

Harry just needed to be patient and keep his wits. It was the only way he'd survive.

Meg broke another rib that night.

* * *

"It's been a week since you got back, Sam," Bobby pointed out gruffly from behind his newspaper.

Sam shifted uncomfortably from his position across the kitchen table. "You saw them together, Bobby. Dean's never had his heart broken before."

Bobby put the paper down. "I understand that, Sam. But Dean doesn't seem the type to light candles and mope around the house in memoriam. If anything, you'd think he'd be off hunting down that fucking shifter."

"I know," Sam said, nodding in agreement. "But if he needs to do this first than he's not going to get any lip from me about it… or you, Bobby."

"You seem to be handling things, okay."

Sam glared at Bobby. "Harry was my best friend, Bobby. We were just as close as Dean is to me. I loved him like a brother. I am _not_ handling this okay."

"I get it, boy, you gotta be strong for your brother. I ain't knocking it, Sam," Bobby said sternly.

"He was there for me after Jess," Sam replied, "so I can be there for him now."

They were interrupted by the sound of boots on the stairway. Both men looked at each other hopefully before rushing out of the kitchen and into the main hallway. There on the steps, paused at their sudden appearance, was a pale-looking Dean. He was completely dressed, showered, and had a shovel in one hand.

"Going somewhere?" Sam asked cautiously, not wanting to scare Dean back into his room for another week of self-imposed solitary confinement.

Dean nodded. "Harry needs to be buried."

Sam and Bobby shared an uneasy look.

"Boy, you know there ain't nothing left of Potter to bury… right?" Bobby asked without tact.

Dean turned a hard glare on him. "Do I look mentally damaged in some way, Bobby? No? Then, of course, I know there isn't a body to bury."

Dean took out a shoebox he'd been keeping behind him. Dean popped open the top and let the pair look inside. Sam recognized it as a bunch of little knick-knacks from Harry's room.

"You wanna bury this stuff?" Sam asked, making sure they were on the same page. Dean nodded, challenging his brother to stop him.

Dean should have known better than to think his brother wouldn't back him 100%.

"Can we come to the funeral, too?"

Dean found the strength to let his stony-expression falter long enough to grace the two men with a short smile. He nodded his head and led the way into Bobby's junkyard, Bobby and Sam trailing respectfully behind.

It didn't take long for them to find a nice spot for the "casket". Bobby really only had one living tree beyond the junkyard that had a small wooden bench beneath it. Dean decided not to tell the other two men that this had been one of Harry and his favorite outdoor locations to do the deed. It did bring a smile to his face as he thought of their reaction upon hearing the news.

Sam helped Dean dig a nice sized hole. It didn't take as long as it would of had they been burying a full-sized coffin the necessary six feet deep. The brothers worked well together having spent their youth unearthing the coffins of spirits that had decided to wreak havoc instead of resting peacefully.

Dean noticed Bobby stand quickly from where he had been resting comfortably on the bench beneath the tree. Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder to alert him that something was off. It was Sam that noticed the approaching figure first.

From the maze junkyard equipment a medium sized figure was slowly approaching. The man was wearing a long jacket and a hat. The rest of the clothes, a button down and slacks, were clean. Dean almost didn't recognize who it was at first.

"Dad?" he asked, frozen to the spot. John Winchester climbed the small hill that led to the impromptu burial spot.

"Hello, Boys," John greeted rather formally, nodding to them. "Thanks for inviting me, Bobby."

Dean and Sam sent Bobby identically betrayed looks. Bobby held up his hands defensively.

"I know I should have told you I could contact him," he defended, "but it wasn't my place. I didn't think you'd mind him coming to this, though."

"Just happened to be in the area?" Sam asked his father, accusation lining his words.

John hung his head. "I'm not here to fight, Sammy. I'm here for Dean and you. I'm sorry about your… friend."

Both Dean and Sam noticed how he stumbled over the description of Harry. Dean sent an angry look Bobby's way.

"You told him about Harry and me?"

"No," Bobby said, jumping in before his sons could rip into Bobby. "Harry told me."

"_Harry_ told you?" Sam asked incredulously. "When did you talk to him?"

"I was here just before he left to join you in California," John explained. "I came to interview him since he survived the demon's attack."

"So, what, you come to the funeral of the guy you met for all of two seconds but not to my fiancée's?" Sam asked, his hurt overcoming his ability to keep his words to himself.

Dean put a restraining hand on his younger brother's arm.

"We can settle those issues later, Sammy," Dean said firmly, allowing no debate on the issue. Everyone grew quiet at his words. Dean had been the peacekeeper in his family before, but this was different. Dean wasn't just diffusing an argument, he was here to pay respects to someone he cared for. It was their job to shut the hell up and be there _for him_, for once.

The four hunters gathered around the small gravesite. Dean took up a position at the top of the grave and Sam settled across from him. Bobby and John stood on either side of Dean.

"We're here today to remember Harry Potter," Dean said, beginning the ceremony. Sam kept eye contact with his elder brother throughout the eulogy. Dean, never a good public speaker or expresser of feelings, stumbled through the speech but drew strength from Sam standing across from him.

When Dean was done, Sam said a few words about the closest thing to a brother he'd during Stanford. Bobby shared a few thoughts on the potential Harry had and his amazing cooking skills. John gave the same prayer he said at Mary's funeral all those years ago which almost brought Dean to tears.

Sam, Bobby, and John left Dean to close the hole and for a private moment with Harry. Once they were out of sight, Sam felt John's hand close on his shoulder. Bobby continued on past them towards the house, allowing father and son a private moment to air their feelings.

Sam turned to face his father. "What?"

John sighed. "I wanted to make it to your girl's funeral, Sam, but I had a good lead on the demon."

"Obviously not good enough if he's still out there killing my friends," Sam snapped at him.

"No, but it did lead me to something that could change our position in this game, Sam."

"Is that why you're here?" Sam demanded. "You don't give a shit about what Dean and I are going through right now, do you? You're just here to recruit us back into hunting with you!"

"I've been there, Sam," John said sternly, but not denying the accusation. "I lost your mother, you lost Jessica, and now Dean's lost his… boyfriend. We've all got stock in this now, more so than when it was just your mother."

Sam stormed away angrily.

"I've got something that can finally change it all, Sammy!" John called after him, following quickly. "We've got a shot to kill the fucker once and for all."

"Oh, yeah, how?"

John leaned in closer to his youngest son. "You ever hear of Samuel Colt?"

"He's the gun guy, yeah?" Dean asked, joining them in the junkyard.

Sam eyed him carefully. "You okay?"

Dean sent him a grateful smile and a nod.

"He was a hunter, too, though not everyone knows that," John continued as if unsurprised by Dean's sudden appearance.

"So?"

"So he made a gun that can kill a demon, Dean," John explained slowly. "As in utterly destroyed, no chance of a return trip from Hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200."

Dean saw the disbelief in Sam's eyes, but he also spotted the hope there. He knew that once John showed his younger sibling some historical proof that Sam would be on board. Dean felt the last vestiges of grief fading away, and in its place the growing need for revenge. Dean wanted to kill every last supernatural thing between him and his grave.

"So what are we waiting for?" he asked.

John grinned at him.

* * *

Harry estimated that another week had passed. He could also see that Meg was quickly tiring of merely using her physical strength to abuse him. More and more her eyes trailed longingly to the bag of tricks she had brought to the room during their first torture session.

As it turned out, it was Azazel that was keeping her restrained. He returned at the end of the week and asked Harry two simple questions.

"Whom do you serve?" Azazel had inquired.

"I serve no demon," Harry responded limply, his throat dry from dehydration.

"Are you ready to serve me?" Azazel then asked. Harry spat in his face.

Azazel wiped the spittle from his face, and nodded to Meg. Meg clapped in excitement and reached into her bag of tricks. Harry inhaled at the sight of a long leather whip being pulled from the bag.

"I've made other demons cry, Harry. Do you really think you can hold out longer than a demon?" Meg asked, sounding honestly curious about his answer.

Harry offered up a mediocre glare but said nothing, choosing instead to remain silent and gather his strength. He would show as little weakness as possible in front of the sadist demon in front of him.

"No commentary, eh? We'll see how long you can stay silent before I'm done with you. I have all the time in the world, Harry. And thanks to that healing ability of yours, we can both keep this up for a good while."

Meg moved behind him and Harry tensed himself. A single cold finger caressed the small hairs at his neck. Then there was a whistling sound in the air and the whip sliced into his skin. Harry gasped once before biting down hard on his tongue. A second slash was added to the one already on his back, then another.

"Does it hurt, Harry?" Meg asked from behind. He felt her licking the tip of one of his wounds. Harry suddenly had a thought and sent an electric shock through his body. Even though he was shocked as well, he took great pleasure in the startled surprise of Meg's tongue connecting her to the treatment.

Meg cursed and raised the whip angrily. There would be no forgiveness for his actions. Meg would punish him brutally for his one moment of defiance.

Harry managed to shut his eyes before the whip cut again into his skin. The blows were coming harder than ever now, breaking skin with every swing of the leather. Harry felt the small rivulets of blood running down his back.

Again and again Meg cut into him, only seeming to be angered by the sight of healing skin. As time continued to pass, she seemed determined to make the cuts reappear again and again. Each continued effort, sapping away at Harry's ability to effectively heal him.

At one point tears of pain welled up in Harry's eyes. He did his best to ensure they did not fall, but some escaped him. He thought of Dean making love to him and the tears stopped.

When the first gasp of pain broke through his lips, he thought of joking with Sam. He thought of the pranks he and Jessica had played on their roommate.

When Meg moved to whip his front, he thought of the rescue the brothers were surely planning. His first dry scream was kept at bay by imagining just how much he was going to enjoy killing Meg and Azazel.

The whip continued to fly and his skin continued to be shredded.

* * *

The Winchester Family had always had a reputation for being skilled hunters. However, years had passed since they had last hunted together. Dean may have been in his late teens but Sam had left for college. At that time John had been forced to carry the bulk of the hunting burden.

However, both Winchester brothers were grown men now and more than capable of taking care of their hunting responsibilities. Between the three of them, they were slaughtering the supernatural left and right. Ghosts, Poltergeists, Demons, Witches, and one very unfortunate Shifter had met their fate at the hands of the hunting family.

The past days had been a bloodbath between the Winchesters and a thought to be extinct vampire clan. John had taken their hunt for The Colt straight to the vampires they thought responsible for killing its previous keeper.

It had been a close call but Dean now held The Colt cradled lovingly in his hands.

As Dean drifted off to sleep, he repeated the mantra that had been his driving force in his hunts the past few weeks…

"All for you, Harry…"

* * *

Harry always waited for Meg to slip up. Sometimes it would take days of patient compliance before she would make a mistake. They were never too large of a mistake for him to try an escape, but they were enough to enact a little revenge.

Today, for example, Meg had strayed a little too close to him. The moment she did, he smashed his forehead against her right temple. Meg staggered away in shocked pain.

"I didn't think you had that much defiance left."

Harry merely smirked at her in response, his proud grin saying it all for him.

"Why would you do something so foolish? You must know I have to punish such behavior?"

Harry's arm hung helplessly at his sides, too drained of energy to block further physical blows. He had lost all track of time. He had given up of every being rescued.

There was no escape from this madwoman.

"What difference does it make? You are going to hurt me anyway. I can't imagine what further harm you could do to me."

Meg's lip curled upwards into a nasty sneer. "Oh, my sweet Harry, then you have a very _limited_ imagination."

Harry felt her grab the tongue of his belt and yank the buckle open. Meg gritted her teeth into a dazzling and yet ferocious smile. "It's time we found some new places on you to hurt. It's time to see what you are really made of."

The frenzied look in her eyes made Harry's blood run cold.

"Tonight," Meg whispered lovingly into his ears, "neither of us will be getting any sleep."

* * *

Meg charged into Azazel's chambers.

"We have a problem, father."

Azazel glanced at her thoughtfully. "The boy?"

Meg shook her head. "No, father, my sources tell me the Winchesters have found The Colt."

"_The_ Colt?" he echoed in disbelief. "John Winchester is indeed a formidable enemy."

"We have to get it back," Meg said immediately.

"Obviously," Azazel said condescendingly. "What do you have in mind?"

"I was going to suggest hunting down their little hunter friends one by one until they gave in, but…"

"But?" Azazel prompted her to continue.

"I think I have a different idea," she said, grinning wickedly. "Something that will be much more efficient."

"You don't think the boy will break?" he asked.

"I can break him," Meg said defensively. "I just might not be able to do it in time."

"In which case he'll be useless to us," Azazel concluded.

Meg glanced down the hallway where Harry was being kept.

Azazel followed her eyes towards Harry's torture chamber. "Get your brother to do it."

Meg scowled but nodded her acceptance of her father's mission.

* * *

Harry didn't even bother trying to cover his surprise when Meg brought someone else with her to the next torture session. Azazel had yet to make a return appearance since his first offer to serve him.

"Another torture master?" Harry asked warily, too tired to try to annoy the pair.

"I'd like you to meet someone, Harry," Meg said excitedly. "This is my brother."

Harry just glared at the man. In another situation, Harry would have thought the man was attractive. He had long dark curls and thick cheekbones. His sense of fashion was much stronger than Meg's. His entire demeanor screamed "ruthless killer".

"So this is him, huh?" Meg's apparently nameless brother asked his sister. "Doesn't look like much."

"You think Father would provide you with a body that didn't offer significant advances compared to your current one?" she asked pointedly.

Harry frowned at her words. _Provide you with a body?_

Meg's brother picked up Harry's chin and surveyed him. "I suppose he'll do."

"I'll do for what?" Harry asked warily.

Meg's brother clamped his mouth over Harry's. At first Harry thought the man was brought in to torture Harry with poor kissing, but then he felt the push of something strange at his mouth. Meg clamped a hand over his nose, suffocating Harry until he had no choice but to open his mouth.

It was at that moment, when the demon's dark presence was being forced into his throat, that he realized what was happening to him.

Harry was about to become a meat suit for Meg's brother.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** As promised, here is a bit of exciting news about the sequel. In the reviews and PM's I received, people seemed to be pretty psyched about the sequel so I thought I'd give some more information on it. Basically it will pick up where the epilogue leaves off and carry us into new and uncharted territory. The sequel will be titled _When The Lightning Strikes_ from the Aerosmith song.

I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! The next chapter, "Bait Is Such A Strong Word", will be up in a matter of days. That's my approximate goal for writing, editing, and releasing chapters while over winter break. If I can keep that pace going then "You Leave The World Behind" will be all done by the time I go back to school mid-January.

Finally, you guys are THE BEST at reviewing! I think there was just shy of 100 reviews for last chapter. Honestly, if I didn't have your support I wouldn't have been able to get even half as far as I have already. I wish there was more I could do to show my gratitude for sticking with me through this besides saying THANKS!

…and don't forget to leave another one of those fantastic REVIEWS!!!


	11. Bait Is Such A Strong Word

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize, and is original material, is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** I lost power thanks to the ridiculous storm a few days ago, which knocked trees into power lines and such. This was ready to post days ago but I just got Internet back. Hope the wait didn't kill anybody. I'm submitting this kind of late tonight so I don't know if it will appear late New Years Eve or on New Year's Day… so I'll just say HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!

The episode where Sam figured out that Meg is a demon did not happen in this timeline. Sam just believes she is a kick-ass hitchhiker that he had some special time with. Harry's arrival diverted their paths from crossing as they did in the original timeline of season 1. As suggested by a reviewer, I will try to create a timeline that you can compare with the TV's timeline. I'll try to post it on my author's page before the story has ended.

I know it's been awhile since the prologue, but some of you might want to reread it in case you are confused about what happens with Harry's demonic possession. A lot of reviewers speculated on _why_ the possession might/might not work, but none of you got it exactly right (despite a few close guesses). If anyone is confused, check the prologue again. Just a suggestion.

As usual, don't forget to check out the Author's Note at the end of the chapter :)

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 10:  
"****Bait Is Such A Strong Word"**

"I will fight tooth and nail,  
Count on me, I will not fail you,  
I will fight tooth and nail.  
Come on, try me, I won't give in.  
They take advantage, but they can't win."

- Foreigner, _Tooth and Nail_

THEN…

"_I'd like you to meet someone, Harry," Meg said excitedly. "This is my brother."_

_Meg's brother picked up Harry's chin and surveyed him. "I suppose he'll do."_

"_I'll do for what?" Harry asked warily._

_Meg's brother clamped his mouth over Harry's. At first Harry thought the man was brought in to torture Harry with poor kissing, but then he felt the push of something strange at his mouth. Meg clamped a hand over his nose, suffocating Harry until he had no choice but to open his mouth._

_It was at that moment, when the demon's dark presence was being forced into his throat, that he realized what was happening to him._

_Harry was about to become a meat suit for Meg's brother._

* * *

NOW…

A second later and Harry found himself losing control of his body. It was different from the way the Imperious curse had affected him. Then it had been like a fog of indifference washing over him. This demonic possession felt more like a forced invasion of the mind, body and soul.

"All mine…" The voice of Meg's brother whispered to him from the dark recesses in his mind.

Harry fought against the voice, he tried to take his body back, but it was too late. The demon was taking hold of him and he was powerless to stop him. He could still see and feel everything around him; he felt his hand touching his body, testing it's strength and agility. Worse yet, he now found his mind to be as open to the demon as someone flipping casually through a magazine in a waiting room.

"How's he fit?" Meg asked jokingly as she unlocked the metal binding his right wrist.

"Like a charm," Harry heard the demon say in his voice.

Harry continued to shout mentally at the foreign entity inside of him, but he got the distinct impression he was being ignored by Meg's brother. He felt the moment when the demon uncovered his most heavily guarded secret; Harry's magic was now at the command of the demon.

"You're never going to believe what he is," Harry's voice spoke again, lifting his other arm out for Meg to unshackle. "Or what he can do."

As Meg moved to undue the other binding, Harry felt a stirring within him. It was something that Harry had not felt for many years, long before he'd ever arrived in this new world of the supernatural. It was the side of his being that Albus had made him swear to never reveal and, above all else, never unleash. It may not have been pure evil like the demon, but it was a force to be reckoned with.

It was the soul fragment of Tom Riddle.

As soon as the metal binding dropped to the stone floor, Riddle's presence was detected by the demon. Harry felt the surprise of the demon at there being a third presence with them, but then the fear as it sensed the power of the presence.

"Meg!" Harry's voice cried out in shock and warning. Meg turned to face her brother and scooted away when she saw that one of her brother's smoke filled eyes was instead glowing a blood red.

"What in the name of…" Meg trailed off, startled.

Harry felt the two beings battle each other within his consciousness. While the demon was powerful in its possession ability, keeping control of Harry while doing battle with Riddle was weakening its efforts. Tom Riddle's soul fragment was taking full advantage of the divided attention and attacked ruthlessly. If souls could bleed than Harry was sure the demon would be losing a few quarts by the minute.

Meg, unsure of what was happening within her brother's host, moved to place the metal bindings on Harry once more. Harry instinctively kicked out at her and was shocked as his leg complied. Harry realized that the demon could no longer keep up fighting both Riddle and Harry simultaneously and had moved to eliminate the most immediate threat.

Harry left the two evil souls within him to battle each other and moved to deal with Meg. He felt his magic pool into his outstretched hands and unleashed the unshaped force at Meg. The force of the magic pushed Meg deep into the shadows beyond his prison. Harry took advantage of his upper hand and rushed into the darkness.

It wasn't until he was away from the illuminated prison that he heard the growling. Harry had completely forgotten about the "jailors" that Azazel had warned him lived in the shadows beyond his prison. He cried out in pain as something sharp slashed at his arm, tearing through his shirt and skin with ease. Blood spurted forth and into the darkness.

Harry had no idea where the exit was in the darkness and had only one choice. He dashed back to the safety of his light prison. He heard heavy footsteps from his right and saw a faint outline headed towards him. Meg slammed into his form at full speed knocking them both to the ground.

"Didn't think you'd get away that easy did you, Potter?" Meg laughed as she climbed on top of Harry, straddling him into the ground. She began to choke him.

"It's me, you idiot," Harry snapped at her, pretending to be Meg's brother. Meg paused from her efforts just long enough for Harry to land a blow to her jaw.

"Fuck!" she screamed in anger.

"Stupefy!" he yelled in return, sending a bright red stunner at her. Her body went limp and Harry immediately charged her. Another invisible jailor appeared and their razor sharp talons spilt more of Harry's blood onto stones beneath them.

Harry grabbed her arm and began dragging Meg into the safety of the light. As soon as they were near enough Harry grabbed a metal cuff and locked it securely onto the demon. He quickly repeated the action with Meg's other arm.

Harry turned his attention to the inner battle raging. For the first time in his life, Harry was disappointed that Tom Riddle was losing a fight. Without Harry to fight, the demon was quickly gaining ground on Riddle. Obviously the demon was confident that once he had dealt with Riddle, he would have no trouble regaining control of his host body. Sadly, Harry thought this to be likely as well. At least if Riddle won, he'd never been able to take active control as long as Harry was at the steering wheel.

Already regretting his decision, Harry used his Occlumency and Legilimency skills to join Riddle's side of the fight against the demon. If they lost than neither of them would ever have a shot of controlling Harry's body again.

Harry could immediately tell that his efforts were aiding Riddle in his fight. Already he felt like he was no longer just watching the real world through a screen. He'd already been able to use his body freely but it had been strange to still fight Meg through the eyes of someone else.

As soon as the demon realized his battle was ending, and not in his favor, it attempted to flee. Harry felt like he was about to throw up as the demon's essence flowed up his abdomen and released the hold on his soul.

"Hold it in," Riddle mentally ordered Harry, its voice sounding distant. "Don't let it escape."

Harry didn't know why he decided to trust the fragment of Riddle's soul, but if ever there was a time it was now. Harry clamped both his hands over his mouth and nose to prevent it from leaving.

Riddle surged forth and seemed to cover the ever-diminishing presence of the demon with its own. Harry imagined it looked like a red cloud trying to suffocate a black cloud. Harry cried out in surprise as he suddenly found himself alone with Riddle.

The demon had been destroyed.

"Why did you help me?" Harry could help but ask.

The sound of Riddle's reply was even more distant and weak than before. "The body cannot hold more than one soul without deterioration. Eventually it would have consumed me. I must survive."

Harry should have known that Riddle would only act in Riddle's best interest. He tried to imagine what having three souls inside of him would have done to him. He suppressed a shudder at the memory of what Voldemort's possession of Quirrel in his first year had done to the misguided Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

A howl from the darkness reminded Harry that just because the two demons had been neutralized didn't mean he was out of the woods yet. He still had to get past the creatures that circled his prison of light. He wondered why they had yet to attack, when the answer came to him.

"You can't survive in the light," Harry shouted into the dark abyss beyond his cell. Angry growls and snorts were his only response.

Harry pooled as much of his magic between his two hands as he could handle with his blood loss and began to shape it into light. Albus had taught him this trick when they were hunting a Horcrux in one of Voldemort's cavern hideaways. The magic began to glow in pure white light and grew in intensity until it brought the entire room into view. The exit door was at the far end of the room.

Though Harry could not see the creatures, their screams of pain and death brought a grin to his face. He flicked off the room as he walked to the door and into the corridor beyond.

"Now to get the hell out of here."

Harry concentrated on Bobby's junkyard and allowed his body to jump. When he opened his eyes he was still somewhere underground.

"Shit!" Harry swore. He didn't know how or why, but somehow Azazel had the ability to impair apparition. If he ever got out of his lair, Harry was going to quiz Bobby on everything he knew about demonic powers.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Harry ducked into what turned out to be a steam room. He cast a disillusionment charm and a silencing spell on himself to hide from their demonic senses.

While he was waiting for the demons to pass, Harry checked the tracking spell he'd placed on Dean when he'd shown up at Stanford. The spell linked Harry with a mental geographic picture of Dean's location.

_If only I'd thought to cast one on Sirius before he went through the Veil_, Harry thought to himself.

The footsteps moved away from the door.

_Time to go._

* * *

Azazel stared down at the prone body of his daughter in disgust. He looked at the two demons that had discovered her shackled in Harry's place.

"How long has she been unconscious?" he demanded. The two demons looked to each other, unsure how to answer without being killed.

"We only discovered her a few moments ago," the demon on the left answered shakily, "we're not sure when she was overcome. It could have been hours."

Azazel sent the demon's body slamming into the concrete wall behind him. The demon that remained standing suddenly looked very worried.

"We'll find him," the demon vowed.

"You'd better."

"Yes, my lord," the demon said, quickly taking the hint and rushed to the exit as fast as he could move without breaking into an all out run. The other demon was left abandoned and unconscious against the far wall.

Azazel knelt beside Meg. He kept his hand a foot away from her body at all times, simply allowing his talents to measure her condition. Satisfied that his daughter remained in control of her host he unshackled the metal chains confining her and her abilities.

Meg's eyes tracked his movements alerting him to the fact that she was still conscious. He tested her reactions ties by smacking at her body and earning a glare from his daughter in response. He brought his own abilities to the surface and smashed against the supernatural force restraining his daughter's body.

"Son of a bitch!" Meg shouted, immediately getting up into a sitting position. "Where the hell is that little shit?"

Azazel arched in eyebrow in question. "I take your reaction to mean you do not know where he went?"

"I'll find him," Meg grunted in response. "Then I'll skin him alive."

"And your brother?" Azazel asked. "I have yet to be able to sense him in the compound."

Meg sent her father a dark look. "I don't know what happened. One minute he had control of the little shit and then… he just lost control."

Azazel released a jet of flames out of anger. Meg jumped back as the battered demon behind her was set ablaze. Azazel paid no attention to the demonic smoke fleeing the human body that was screaming against the pain of the burning flesh.

"So can I go after the kid or what?" Meg asked impatiently.

"No, not yet," Azazel turned to her sharply. "The plan comes first, then we can deal with our enemies. Get the Colt by whatever means necessary."

Meg seemed appeased by the idea of shedding blood…even if it wasn't Harry Potter's. Meg lifted her hunting knife from the sheath under her jacket. "Right, a few dead hunters coming right up."

"Forget killing the hunters," Azazel ordered, a gleam entering his eyes. "I have a better idea. John Winchester has his sons with him, correct?"

Meg nodded.

"So he'll have to cave to them the second those boys realize what's at stake."

"And what are we putting at stake?" Meg asked, trying to follow Azazel's plan.

"The lives they've saved, of course."

Meg grinned.

"Go now before the Potter boy can warn them."

* * *

Sam's cell phone rang, jerking him into consciousness.

Dean and his father had been dragging him across the country, hunting everything they could find. Most recently they'd been hunting a cursed painting that had claimed over a dozen murders, each of them the owners of the painting. Sam had been up all night researching the family depicted in the painting when he'd finally passed out just before dawn. Now someone was calling him.

Sam checked the caller ID. _Hailey Collins_.

It took a few minutes before the name clicked with an identity in Sam's mind. It had been months, maybe even a year, since Dean and Sam had traveled to Black Water Ridge, Colorado. There they had helped Hailey and her younger brother, Ben, find their older brother, Tommy. A Wendigo, who was keeping him for food for the winter, had captured Tommy. Luckily, Dean and Sam had managed to save and reconnect the siblings, plus kill the Wendigo.

Dean stirred from the bed next to his. "Who's calling so early?"

"Hailey Collins," Sam muttered.

"Who?"

"Black Water Ridge," Sam explained.

"Tell her I said hi," Dean replied, before slumping back down onto the bed and burying his head in a pillow.

"Hey, Hailey," Sam greeted sleepily, opening the cell phone and placing it against his ear.

"Hello, Sam," a voice that was distinctly not Hailey Collins returned his greeting. "Guess who?"

Sam rubbed at his eyes, wondering how sleepy he was to have hallucinated Meg's voice as Hailey Collins'. "Hailey?"

"Guess again, Sammy-boy," Meg laughed into the phone. "Think a little harder. It's been awhile but I'm sure you remember a hot blonde in a bus station."

Sam bolted upright. "Meg?"

"Bingo, baby," Meg chuckled.

"How do you know Hailey Collins?" Sam asked, an uncomfortable sensation mounting in his stomach. "Did you hitchhike all the way to Colorado?"

"Sorry to bust your bubble, Winchester," Meg taunted, "but I'm not on the phone for pleasantries."

Sam threw a pillow at Dean before putting Meg on speakerphone. "What are you talking about, Meg?"

"We know you and your father have the Colt, Sam," Meg said darkly. "As far as we're concerned you've just declared open hunting season on the Winchester clan."

"Who's we?" Dean asked angrily, grabbing the phone out of Sam's hand.

"Morning, Dean," Meg chirped. "Sorry to say I haven't had the pleasure, but I know someone who has."

"Get to the point, bitch."

"My point is that we want the gun, or bad things happen. Simple enough for you, Dean?"

"Or what?" Dean asked.

"Or I'm going to track down every person you've helped this year and I'm going to cut them open and play with their insides," Meg stated cheerfully.

"Where's Hailey Collins?" Sam asked, sending a warning glare at Dean.

"Well she and the little one are fine," Meg answered coyly, "but they are a little _tied up_ at the moment."

Dean looked livid at the sound of Meg laughing over the phone. "The older one is all over the living room floor, sadly. He tried to fight me on the way in. Too bad, really, he was pretty cute."

"You're lying," Sam accused.

"Sam? Dean?" Hailey's voice echoed through the speakerphone, clearly sobbing in distress. "Please help us. She killed Tommy, Sam. She just killed him right in front of us."

"Believe me now?"

Dean's grip on the cell phone tightened to the point of breaking. "I'm going to kill you myself."

"Save the oxygen, Dean," Meg shot back. "I don't care about your threats and I know you can't touch a hair on my head."

"The Colt says otherwise, bitch."

Instead of responding herself, the sound of screaming and then gurgling erupted through the listening end of the cell phone. Another voice, this time male, was shouting in the background.

"That was the sound of Hailey Collins getting her throat cut and her blood soaking into the carpet," Meg informed them. "I don't think little Benny liked it very much."

Sam felt like he was going to be sick.

"Just bring me the gun, Dean, and I won't have to kill any other _innocent_ people."

"It's going to take us some time to get to you," Sam said diplomatically.

"That little lie just cost you another innocent life, Sam," Meg said, before letting them hear the sounds of Hailey's little brother, Ben, breathing his last breaths of life.

"Stop!" Sam shouted. "For God's sake, stop."

"Oh, I'm under Daddy's orders, Sam," Meg replied. "I think you know him? I call him Daddy, but you like to call him 'Old-Yellow-Eyes'."

"You're the demon's, daughter?" Sam asked, his head already swimming from the lack of sleep and the quick turn of events.

"You have one hour to call this number back, ready to turn over the Colt," Meg informed them, before letting the line go dead.

"What do we do?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean shrugged but Sam could see that he was just trying to appear unfazed by the deaths of three people they'd personally saved.

"That weapon is the only chip we have in this game," Dean responded. "We can't give it up."

"We can't let them die, Dean."

"And how many more people will die if we don't kill Yellow-Eyes and that bitch?"

Sam shook his head. "It's not right, Dean. That kid wasn't even out of high school."

"We've all lost innocent people, Sam," Dean snapped. "Dad lost Mom, you lost Jess, and I lost Harry. People die and we have to pick up and move on, because no one else can."

They let their argument cool and silence settle between them.

"So what do we do?" Sam repeated his earlier question.

"We go wake Dad up and then we go kill that bitch."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Let's do it then."

* * *

By the time Harry had escaped the confines of Azazel's ability to block his apparition powers almost five hours had passed. Azazel had taken up inside of an old mining facility in Nebraska. The tunnels had been a maze of options and unknown destinations. Harry had taken to simply following possessed miners around until one of them led him to the surface.

Harry had tried to apparate again but ended up back in the tunnels. It had taken another hour before finding his own way out. He would have tried simply blasting his way out but he remembered that most gases underground were highly flammable and didn't want to risk blowing himself to hell.

He'd then had to walk almost three miles on foot to ensure he was out of Azazel's power range. Once he was pretty sure he was free he jumped to the motel that his spell had told him Dean was staying at.

Unfortunately Harry had missed the Winchesters by several hours. Instead Harry had apparated into their motel room… that had been in the process of being cleaned. Harry surprised the poor housekeeping lady who was flipping through magazines as the vacuum cleaner ran uselessly against the motel room door.

The woman screamed as Harry appeared next to the left hand bed (Dean's usual favorite) and scared the crap out of her.

"Oh Merlin!" Harry cried out in shock. "I'm so sorry!"

Harry mentally slapped himself in the face. In his desperation to get back to Dean and Sam, he'd forgotten the basic rules of apparition. What the hell had he been thinking? What if Dean had been in the room when he'd apparated in? It was one thing to scare an old cleaning lady, but it was another to suddenly appear in a room with two hunters who were armed to the teeth and overly jumpy.

Harry turned his attention back to the cleaning lady who was trying to run out of the door. Harry silently apologized to the woman before casting a memory modification spell at her back. He levitated her gently onto the bed, allowing her memory to change to one where she simply fell asleep on the job.

He glanced out of the motel window and sighed as he realized that the Impala wasn't parked in the parking lot. The drawers had been emptied and none of the vents had any secret stashes of guns in them.

The only sign that Dean had been there at all was the leather jacket that Dean had cast the spell on all those months ago. Dean had left the jacket in the wastebasket. Harry picked it up and instantly saw why the jacket had been discarded; it had been sliced into pieces and bloodstains marred it.

Harry took the jacket with him when he left the motel room. He could always just mend the jacket magically; it might make a nice reunion gift for Dean.

How else to track Dean down?

Harry eyed the motel phone. His own cell phone had been taken from him when Meg and the Shifter had captured him. Of course, he still had most of the brothers' phone numbers memorized, but he couldn't be sure they hadn't discarded any of them yet.

Harry decided to call Bobby instead. Bobby never changed his numbers.

"Yeah?" Bobby answered the phone.

Harry chuckled to himself, good old Bobby never changed for anybody.

"Hey, Bobby," Harry said, relieved to have finally reached someone. "It's Harry."

There was an awkward pause at the other end. "Harry who?"

Harry frowned. "Harry Potter, Bobby. What other Harry do you know?"

This time Bobby's answer was fast and angry. "Don't call here again."

The line went dead.

Meg's voice suddenly returned to his mind, a conversation he'd hoped had been to demoralize him. Harry felt a cold sense of dread that maybe, for once, the demon within Meg had been telling the truth…

"_Sadly, you've been misinformed. The dear Winchester offspring believe you to be dead. My condolences."_

"_They're smarter than that. They'll see through whatever you've rigged up."_

"_Even if we left behind a dead shifter that was in your form? You think they'll see through that?"_

"_Their smart guys, Meg, they'll know it's a possibility."_

"_Doubtful."_

He had to find Dean and Sam sooner rather than later. Harry picked up the motel room phone and dialed Bobby again. One way or another, Bobby Singer was going to tell him where Dean and Sam were.

* * *

_Sandhills, Nebraska_

Sam and Dean walked down the busy street of Sandhills at noon, every step bringing them closer to the designated meeting place Meg had assigned. John, Sam and Dean were supposed to bring the Colt to Meg at _Susan's Pie House_ on Main Street. Even from down the street they could see Meg seated at one of the tables at the outdoor café section.

"Hello, boys," Meg greeted warmly, motioning to the three empty seats at her table. Sam waited for Dean's nod before he took one of the seats. "And where is John this fine afternoon?"

"Close enough to put a bullet through your head if this meeting goes south," Dean replied smartly.

"Wasn't I clear about no tricks?" Meg asked through gritted teeth as she scanned the streets for the eldest Winchester.

"Do we have stupid tattooed on our foreheads?" Sam replied, placing a plastic bottle filled with holy water on the table.

"Break one rule, break them all," Meg said pointedly. "I get it. So give me the gun and let's get this over with."

"You expect us to just turn it over, just like that?"

"Yup, just like that," Meg responded, snapping her fingers on the last word. To emphasize her point she even placed her open purse on the table. "In here, please."

Dean nodded to Sam who slipped the gun into the purse and passed it back to Meg.

"So now what?"

Meg made no move to take the bag back. The waiter appeared and flashed the brothers a pair of black eyes before moving back into the restaurant with the purse. Dean glared at Meg as he reached for the weapon under his coat.

"What?" Meg shrugged innocently, "You're the only ones allowed to break the rules?"

"Where's he going with the Colt?" Sam inquired, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"To make sure that it really _is_ the Colt, of course. You didn't think we'd just take your word for it and go, did you?"

"And how many more skin jobs you got around here?" Dean asked angrily, eyeing the crowded street uneasily.

"Relax, Dean," Meg said soothingly, patting his hand. "We have so much to talk about while we wait."

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"Dean, you wound me," Meg said, fanning herself dramatically. "You don't even want to talk about Harry?"

Sam put a restraining hand on Dean's arm as he made to jump Meg right over the table. Meg merely smiled in response.

"You'd be smart to not mention Harry to Dean," Sam advised her.

"Especially since it was you and your Daddy that sent that shifter to kill him," Dean snarled at her, spit flying freely.

"Is that what we did?" Meg asked curiously.

"You know it is."

"And, like usual, you humans can't see past what's at the tip of your noses."

Dean growled and pushed Sam's restraining arm away from himself. He was across the table in seconds, grabbing Meg around the throat and hauling her up against the brick wall of the restaurant.

"Dean!" Sam shouted in warning.

Dean turned and saw that every one of the outdoor patrons, almost a dozen, had stood at his attack on Meg. Every single patron had the same black eyes as the waiter had had.

"I'd let me go, Winchester," Meg recommended. "In case you hadn't noticed, I have more friends present than you."

"I bet I can take a whole bunch of them with me before you put me down," Dean ground out.

"Dean."

"Quiet, Sammy."

"I'm disappointed, Dean," Meg teased. "Harry said that you'd break my neck when you saw me. I don't think you're all he thought you were."

Dean's hand tightened around Meg's throat. "You were there? When that fucking _freak_ killed him?"

"Who says it was the shifter that killed him?" Meg asked coyly.

Dean started to choke her when the waiter returned. Meg took her eyes off of Dean and trained them on the possessed waiter.

"Well?"

The waiter shook his head and Meg snapped her attention back to the brothers.

"Now we have a real problem, boys. Where's the real gun?"

The possessed waiter's head ripped open as one of John's bullets, fired from the rooftop across the street, blew it apart.

All hell broke loose.

* * *

It had taken apparating directly to Bobby's front door, two bottles of holy water, and several blood tests for the man to believe that Harry was who he claimed he was. Harry had been pleasantly surprised to see how much Bobby had missed him. He'd been far more disturbed to see his own grave.

"So what did you guys bury?" he asked, seeing the simple gravestone that Dean had placed by the tree.

"Some of your stuff," Bobby said in an embarrassed tone while scratching the back of his neck. "Dean found a box of your mementos. No offense, looked like junk to me. Even had a twig in it."

Harry smirked wondering how Bobby would react to knowing they'd buried a magic wand in his backyard. He'd have to be sure and get his stuff unburied once he'd found the boys again.

"So where are they, Bobby?"

Bobby sighed. "You've got to understand, Harry. It was real bad after you… left. Dean was out of control and John, well, John did what John does best: he hunted. Dean was more than happy to join him, and where Dean goes Sam follows."

"Sounds about right."

"Well, damned if they don't find themselves some mystical Colt that can kill anything."

Harry eyes went wide. "They what?"

Bobby nodded. "Then the demon got wind of it and started killing people they'd helped in the past. Told them it would stop if they'd just give up the gun."

"So they went to make a trade?" Harry asked. "I don't imagine that to be John Winchester's style."

"It's not," Bobby agreed. "They made a fake Colt, since no one really knows what a mythical weapon looks like. Smart right? So they make the trade with a fake gun and try to snatch the woman demon working for the Yellow-Eyed Demon."

"Meg?" Harry asked sharply.

Bobby nodded.

"Tell me where they are, Bobby."

"Why? I'm sure the boys can handle one demon chick, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Meg's not stupid, Bobby. They need me. Trust me on this one."

* * *

As soon as Bobby relayed the pertinent details of the exchange to Harry, he excused himself and apparated to Nebraska.

He expected to be able to sneak into the café undetected. He'd expected some small time rendezvous so as not to alert attention to the innocents. What he had not anticipated was apparating into a full out warzone.

Sam and Dean were fighting off demons by the café. The few non-possessed humans were running around trying to take cover in one of the many shops and restaurants that lined the street. John Winchester was firing from a snipers nest on one of the rooftops across from the café. Besides Meg and a few of the demons closest to her, none of the others seemed interested in the Winchesters. The rest of the demons seemed content with going after the other humans.

Harry didn't think twice about jumping into the fray. Harry ran, raising both his hands as he did so. He didn't bother casting any stunning spells as he had done on Meg during his escape. He was sorry for the human hosts but if he didn't put the demons down the first time, they would just escape to kill another day.

He began casting fire and crushing spells. A massive ball of flame burst from his hand and catching a slow moving demon in the shoulders and face. The top half of the demon disappeared in the engulfing flames. The demons suddenly turned their attention to Harry and the new threat that he represented.

A second demon was blown apart by a smashing hex, sending body part flying in different directions. A third demon tried to smash his skull with a baseball bat but Harry banished the weapon away from them. Harry used a blood-freezing spell that killed the demon instantly.

Further up the street Sam was firing his shotgun at every demon that crossed his path, but was quickly being backed into a side street. Dean seemed content to be fighting with Meg and the pair traded blows. Harry decided that Dean would be fine for the time being and focused his efforts on Sam's problems.

As soon as Sam's shotgun was empty Harry pushed a large gust of air at the approaching demons. He thickened the air so that it was hard enough to hurt and strong enough to move. The wave of air propelled most of the demons through the air and into a side building.

Meg managed to get the upper hand in her fight with Dean and threw him through the large window in front of the café. Harry turned to face her and felt a surge of hatred building inside of him. It wasn't just what she'd done to him during his time as a prisoner, though that was a part of it. It was that she'd managed to hurt Dean, _his_ Dean. No one, especially Meg, got away with that.

Meg seemed to spot Harry at the same moment. She waved at him cheerfully before running at him flat out. As he neared her Harry began pooling large amounts of unfocused magic into the space between his palms. It wasn't until she was but a few feet away that he decided on how he would kill her.

Meg charged with abandon, completely unconcerned with what Harry could do to her. He raised his arms and let the magic mold itself to her body. Slowly, white ripples appeared across her skin as ice covered skin. Within seconds Meg's body was covered in ice, her body freezing in place. Harry picked up the baseball bat that he'd banished from earlier and swung with all of his strength. Meg's body shattered into thousands of small pieces, the demon's essence dying along with its host.

At the sight of their leader's demise, the remainder of the demons decided to flee. Smoke filled the sky as the demons left their host bodies for the safety of the horizon.

Harry breathed hard from the amount of energy he had applied to the skirmish. The healing he'd done while hiding in Azazel's mine shafts had only gone so far in recovering the damage Meg had done to him.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to face Dean who had called his name from across the street. Sam was standing next to Dean, and Harry tried to ignore the fact that both of the Winchesters had their weapons aimed at him.

"It's okay, Dean," Harry said softly. "It's me. It's Harry."

Dean kept his gun trained on him. Harry wasn't sure if Dean just didn't believe him or if he didn't trust himself to speak. Whatever the reason, Dean merely continued to give Harry a betrayed look.

"It's me, guys," Harry said, taking a step closer to them. "I can prove it."

* * *

Unbeknownst to Harry, John Winchester had noticed his son's dead lover appear out of thin air the moment he'd arrived on the scene. He'd kept one eye on Harry throughout the entire battle. Even after Harry had helped them end the battle, John had turned the rifle's scope to focus on the spot between Harry's eyes.

In John Winchester's mind, no matter how much help the kid gave them against the demon, nothing inhuman was good. Especially nothing that could kill with the ease with which Harry had just done. The moment Harry had taken a step towards his son's had been the last straw.

John Winchester trained his rifle's sight on his target and fired.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** So this was the chapter most of you have been waiting for. The secret is out: Harry isn't human. Now the question becomes how the Winchester family will handle such dangerous information.

Next chapter is far more about the angst and less about the action than this one. Sorry, but that's the way it has to be. I know some of you may not like Dean's behavior at times, hell _I_ don't like it at times, but I'm trying to keep him as true to character as possible. So if he comes off as quite the jerk in the next chapter, recognize that he's going through some shit, too. Everyone needs a break and this is just me asking you to just give him some time to get his act together :)

Also, **scarletsptember** is coming up with some pretty interesting story ideas lately (beta'd by yours truly) and they involve Harry Potter/Supernatural crossovers. I highly recommend checking out her latest endeavor. Feel free to use the link from my "favorite authors" page to check her out.

Public Service Announcement Time: celebrating responsibly means choosing NOT TO DRIVE DRUNK!!! I lost my cousin three years ago to a drunk driver on New Years (he was also driving drunk). Also, I was hit head on by a drunk driver over the summer and it is not a pleasant experience. My car was totaled, we both got injured, and the drunk driver got some jail time. Don't start your new year off the wrong way.

Might I suggest a New Year's Resolution? REVIEW every time you read something :) Here's something for you to practice on LOL…


	12. Baby, Don't Fear The Seeker

**Disclaimer:**Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize, and is original material, is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** I am proud to announce that 800 people now receive an alert every time "You Leave the World Behind" has a new chapter posted! Also, it is a favorite story of over 500 readers and has had close to 70,000 hits! THANKS FOR READING, EVERYBODY!!!

Also, before anyone asks, Harry is a Seeker in Quidditch. So the pun in my chapter title DOES make sense, despite what my stupid friends have told me, LOL.

As always, don't forget to read the Author's Note at the end of the chapter! There's an extra special bribe at the end of it :)

*******Special warning for **sexual situations**and **bad language*****

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 11:  
"****Baby, Don't Fear The Seeker"**

"It's the moment of truth,  
and it's finally come this time.  
Now we must draw the line.  
The moment of truth,  
this time it's everything.  
Open up, let me in,  
let me right into your heart."

- Foreigner, _Moment of Truth_

THEN…

"_Harry?"_

_Harry turned to face Dean who had called his name from across the street. Sam was standing next to Dean, and Harry tried to ignore the fact that both of the Winchesters had their weapons aimed at him._

"_It's okay, Dean," Harry said softly. "It's me. It's Harry."_

_Dean kept his gun trained on him. Harry wasn't sure if Dean just didn't believe him or if he didn't trust himself to speak. Whatever the reason, Dean merely continued to give Harry a betrayed look._

"_It's me, guys," Harry said, taking a step closer to them. "I can prove it."_

_Unbeknownst to Harry, John Winchester had noticed his son's dead lover appear out of thin air the moment he'd arrived on the scene. He'd kept one eye on Harry throughout the entire battle. Even after Harry had helped them end the battle, John had turned the rifle's scope to focus on the spot between Harry's eyes._

_In John Winchester's mind, no matter how much help the kid gave them against the demon, nothing inhuman was good. Especially nothing that could kill with the ease with which Harry had just done. The moment Harry had taken a step towards his son's had been the last straw._

_John Winchester trained his rifle's sight on his target and fired._

* * *

NOW…

Dean saw the outcome of his father's shot before he heard the gunshot.

To Dean, it was like watching it all unfold in slow motion. Harry's body jerked and twirled as if he were drunkenly dancing. Harry's brilliant green eyes were wide in surprise. Harry overbalanced and fell sideways onto the street, the front of his body facing away from the brothers.

"Dad, what did you do?" Sam whispered so softly that Dean, standing next to him, barely registered the question. Sam took off running, rapidly closing the distance between himself and Harry's fallen body. Dean tried to move, but the shock held him still.

Sam slowed as he came within a few feet of Harry. Did he really want to see Harry's body? To see proof that his father had just slain his best friend? Proof that the one person Dean had ever had a long-term relationship with was lost to him? Most devastating was that it would be yet more proof of the Winchester curse.

To Dean it may have looked like Sam knelt next to Harry, but in truth his legs buckled beneath him. Sam reached out, hand shaking, and pulled gently on Harry's shoulder. Harry's body was uncomfortably simple to move. Sam looked at Harry's face, knowing how his father preferred headshots for accuracy, but found no bullet hole. The only blood on Harry's forehead was from where he'd hit his head on the concrete, knocking him unconscious.

As Sam turned Harry's face further towards him he noticed a red shadow form beneath his hand on Harry's cheek. Sam pulled his hand away from Harry's face and saw the newly tainted skin where his hand had left blood in the shape of his palm. Sam's hand was covered in blood from where he had touched Harry's shoulder.

The act of turning Harry over had pushed the wizard's shirt against the bullet wound. Blood began staining the shirt and expanding in a circular formation as the blood soaked into the shirt. Sam hurriedly tore the shirt at the collar, exposing the wound John Winchester had inflicted upon him. Sam swore and took out the handkerchief he used to hold back his hair during workouts. He pushed the cloth tightly against the wound, applying enough pressure to keep the wound closed.

"Get away from it, Sam," John ordered in what Sam had deemed his 'marine voice'. John appeared at the front entrance of the building that his sniper nest had been on top of. His rifle was still in hands and was aimed tightly at Sam and Harry.

"Why did you shoot him?" Sam demanded, pointing his bloodied hand at his father.

"You saw what he did."

"I saw him _help_ us."

"Why do you think I didn't put him down in the first place?" John shrugged. John's comment seemed to bring Dean out of his daze. "I still wasn't going to let him get near you two."

"He's alive?" Dean asked.

John frowned at the hopeful tone in his eldest son's voice. Not that he'd ever admit it, but John always knew that, despite his efforts to appear strong, Dean was always the weakest of his boys. John was sure that Dean's heart would get him killed if he wasn't careful.

"If there's one thing I have learned from hunting," John lectured his boys, "it's that things as powerful as your buddy over there can't be killed that easily. That should keep him down for awhile though."

"You meant to hit his shoulder?" Sam asked, incredulously.

John frowned. "You need to have another shooting contest, Sam? I know it's been awhile since I last kicked your and Dean's ass at it, but I thought you'd still know I never miss."

Sam turned his attention back to his bleeding friend. "He looks weak, Dad. I've never seen him this messed up before."

"You ever see him do that magic shit before either?" John asked accusingly. "Did you know he sucked demon cock for magic?"

Dean flinched at his father's choice of words. Sam glared at his father warningly before nodding his head at Dean.

"Dean?" Sam called to Dean; unnerved at the awkward distance his brother was keeping himself at. "You mind giving me a hand here?"

Dean nodded and slowly began approaching his brother, his father, and his fallen Harry.

"You never answered my question, son," John pointedly asked Sam.

"He didn't know," Dean answered for Sam. At John and Sam's suspicious looks he quickly added, "Neither of us did."

John eyed both of his sons carefully before nodding in acceptance.

"So what do we do now?" Dean asked, warily looking at the rifle in his father's hands.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Sam said, keeping his already bloodied hand on Harry's shoulder wound.

"I made sure not to hit anything _too_ damaging," John boasted. "A trip to the Bobby Singer Hospital will be good enough… for now."

"For now?" Sam echoed his father's words, also eyeing his father's rifle. "What does that mean?"

"It means exactly what I said," John answered with a tone of finality. "Get him in the car. We're leaving. Now."

* * *

_South Dakota_

When Harry woke, he was in a strange prison cell with only a thin mattress separating his sore back from the metal springs of the cot.

Harry groaned as he sat up. His shoulder burned with the familiar sensation of his magic healing a major trauma. Harry had certainly come to recognize the feeling after spending so much time with Meg and her torture toys.

Harry took stock of his cell. The room had one circular wall that was built entirely of an unknown metal. Harry tapped the wall and listened to the resulting metallic echo. The light from the room came from the ceiling, where a large fan rotated slowly under the opening. A protective grate, sealed to the ceiling from the inside, was in a familiar pattern. Harry recognized it as a Devil's Trap, a symbol used to entrap demons inside of it, from one of the many books Bobby had given him to read.

The cement floor had the same pattern but large enough to cover the entire floor, spreading from the center. Harry noticed that the floor was faded slightly from the sunlight except for one section of the room where something had been moved out of the cell. From the rectangular outline of the missing item, it was a large box or several boxes stacked together. Across from the cot was a black and white evocative picture of a woman in a one-piece bathing suit.

_Dean would love it_, Harry thought wryly of the poster.

Harry turned to face the last interesting aspect of the cell; a large metal door with a series of bars where a small window was placed. Harry had seen in TV shows that many cells had these windows for people to speak to prisoners. Harry walked to the door and knocked on it several times.

The metal window slid open within seconds and Bobby's face appeared on the other side.

"Bobby?" Harry asked, surprised to see a familiar face keeping him prisoner.

"About time you woke up," Bobby replied with his usual charm. "How do you like the place?"

Harry eyed the room critically. "It could use some color."

Bobby grinned and then closed the window. Harry couldn't hear anything outside of the cell door. For a moment Harry wondered if Bobby was never going to return, but then metallic sounds began grinding in the door.

The door swung open and Bobby entered with a small handgun held in front of him. Harry took the hint and backed up to the small cot until the back of his knees connected with the metal bedsprings. In Bobby's other hand was a small plastic bin.

"This room was originally designed to be a panic room," Bobby said, setting the bin down on the bed next to Harry. "It took me a long time to build it without anyone, or anything, noticing."

Bobby opened the bin and Harry couldn't help but take a quick peak inside. He saw gauze and some other medical supplies. Harry's stomach gave an instinctive growl at the wrapped sandwiches and water bottle in the pin.

"The metal walls are solid iron and embedded with salt," Bobby said, continuing his explanation of the panic room as if he'd never paused.

"And the poster?" Harry asked, cracking a hesitant smile.

"Who doesn't like Bo Derek?" Bobby answered the question with a question. "Point is, whatever you are, you can't get out of here."

_Wouldn't bet on it, Bobby,_ Harry thought to himself.

"Don't worry, Harry," Bobby said, tossing him a sandwich, "I told them that it was really you, even if you… aren't the same Harry that we thought we knew."

Harry nodded in thanks and began unwrapping the sandwich. It was warm so Bobby had been sitting outside his cell for a while, but Harry didn't mind. He was too hungry to really care, but he did cast a non-verbal testing charm to check for potions.

"Afraid I won't take the medicine directly, Bobby?" Harry asked, holding up the sandwich to represent the results of his testing charm. Bobby had laced the food with medicine, which, Harry supposed, was a better option than if the food had had something more harmful in it.

Bobby raised his eyebrows at Harry's ability to detect the medicine. "You know what's in the food?"

Harry shrugged before taking a large bite out of the sandwich. "I assume you guys don't trust me because of my abilities?"

"Could be worse," Bobby reasoned, taking out the medical supplies. "John almost killed you at the site."

Harry took another bite.

"I need to check your wound," Bobby said. "Off with the shirt."

Harry sighed and shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. He hiked up the right hand side of his shirt and lifted it to rest next to his neck. Harry let the bulk of the shirt fall across his chest so that Bobby could get a clear look at the wound.

Bobby uneasily stared at Harry's shoulder. "The wound is gone."

"It healed," Harry replied.

Bobby nodded, clearly unnerved at the proof of Harry's abilities. Bobby started packing away the unneeded medical supplies into the bin. He tossed Harry the second sandwich and began walking towards the door.

"You don't even want to ask about my abilities?" Harry asked, curious as to Bobby's lack of curiosity.

Bobby paused at the threshold of the door.

"Sorry, Harry, but it won't be me who's asking those questions."

* * *

John Winchester arrived a few days later.

Bobby had shown up three times a day, each time with food and water. Harry had caught random glances of a very tall figure outside the door that he assumed was Sam. If it was, Sam had not made an effort to speak with him. According to Bobby, John and Dean had been away on a hunt.

"How did your hunt go?" Harry asked from where he was seated on the cot.

"How'd you know I was out hunting?" John asked sharply.

Harry shrugged. "Bobby mentioned you and Dean being gone."

"Bobby shouldn't have been speaking to you at all," John muttered. "I'll speak with him about that."

"So what were you hunting?"

"You really want to know?" John asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. When Harry nodded John added, "We were hunting you."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well… that's awkward."

"It was nice of you to share so many personal details with Dean," John said, dragging a metal chair into the center of the room and taking a seat facing Harry. "It helped us to check out your background information."

Harry smirked. "Any luck?"

"Whoever made your identity did a very thorough job," John complimented.

"Thanks, my guy rocked," Harry replied. Harry had tracked down a superb forger named Chet in New York City after he'd first arrived in this new world. Harry had paid for his fake paperwork by making the Chet's workshop undetectable. Chet was a far cry from a bad person, just someone using their skills to pay the bills.

"So is this what you do?" John questioned, waving a hand at Harry's direction. "You impersonate a human being, infiltrate them and then kill them?"

"No," Harry sighed. "I've never done that."

"There's no record of you existing before going to college with my boys," John said, holding up a print out of Harry's Stanford ID and driver's license. "At least nothing that wasn't added by the person who made your identity... if it is a person."

"He's human, and he's also a pretty good cook," Harry joked.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously enough," John commented, calmly taking his gun out and resting it against the top of his thigh.

"Than ask me something serious," Harry responded, leaning back against the wall to put more distance between himself and the gun in John's hand.

"What are you?" John asked immediately.

"I'm human."

John cocked the gun. "Humans can't do what you did the other day in Nebraska."

"Most humans don't go hunting the supernatural," Harry pointed out.

"So what's your point?"

"Maybe I can be human and unique all at the same time."

"You weren't very human when you burned those demons' host bodies to death."

"And you weren't very human when you put a bullet into their brains, either," Harry shot back.

John grinned at him. "I see why Dean liked you… before he found out what you were, that is."

Harry tried to mask the pain he felt at John's statement. "I'm not surprised that Dean doesn't want to see me."

"I've seen some powerful witches in my dead, only made more powerful by their demonic masters," John explained. "I've never seen someone use magic like that, though."

"Funny," Harry said darkly. "You sound just like Azazel before he had his daughter, Meg, torture me."

"Why did Azazel do that?" John asked. "Aren't you working with him?"

"Azazel killed my friend, Jess's fiancée," Harry responded angrily. "I almost died trying to stop him. Don't you dare accuse me of being in league with that piece of shit."

"I almost believe you."

* * *

The day after John's first interview Sam brought Harry's food in Bobby's stead. Harry stood to greet him awkwardly, but he had no idea of what to say to his friend. He didn't even know if Sam still liked him or now hated him.

"I heard my Dad gave you a hard time the other day," Sam said shyly, handing Harry a tray of food. "Hope he wasn't too hard. He can be a tough guy."

Harry hesitated before he took the food. "I was wondering when you'd make a visit."

"Been a little busy, Harry," Sam lied.

"Doing what? Guarding my cell door?"

Sam ducked his head. "It's not like this is your prison or anything."

"It's not?" Harry asked in mock-surprise. "You mean I'm free to just get up, walk through that door, and I wouldn't be shot in the back?"

"Dad's just being careful," Sam explained.

"You think I'm dangerous, Sam?" Harry asked, eyes glued to every detail of Sam's expression. Harry watched the lines of Sam's face change, witnessed the tension in his best friend.

"I don't know what to think, Harry," Sam replied, the turmoil in his voice clearly turning to anger. "It's not like you were ever truthful with me."

"I just did the same thing you did, Sammy," Harry defended himself. "I lied about my past so that I could have a future."

"You didn't just lie about your past, Harry, you lied about being human."

Harry leaned forward into Sam's space. "I _am_ human, Sam."

"A human that sold his soul to a demon for magic," Sam shot back.

"I was born this way, Sam," Harry replied. "And I don't use my abilties to hurt innocent people."

"I know, I saw you take out those demons."

"I also tried to save Jess, Sam. Azazel was just too strong."

Sam blinked away the water pooling in his eyes. "I'm sure Jess would have been thankful for that."

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Sammy," Harry admitted quietly. "Once I knew you were hunters, I had to keep up the pretense."

Sam nodded in understanding. "I get that, I do. I've just never met anything supernatural that I could trust."

"I'm not like the witches you have here, Sam. I'm different."

"I hope so."

* * *

_The Singer Home_

Dean found his younger brother in Bobby's makeshift library pouring over dusty books. Sam didn't even look up at Dean's entrance. Dean took a seat on the sofa and waited for Sam to break from his reading.

"You need something, Dean?" Sam asked without looking up.

Dean put his feet up on the oak coffee table and sighed. "What are you reading?"

Sam lifted the book's front without breaking eye contact with the page. Dean squinted but couldn't make out the title. He did see an occult symbol inscribed at the center of the book.

"Witchcraft?" Dean guessed. Sam nodded distractedly.

They lapsed into silence again before Dean coughed. "Why are you reading about witches again?"

Sam sighed. "Harry says he's a different kind of witch… or rather a wizard."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "He did?"

"Yeah, one who is naturally born with magic."

"There's nothing natural about it, Sam," Dean replied automatically.

Sam dropped the book onto the desk, finally looking Dean in the eye. For the first time, Dean saw that Sam's eyes were tainted red.

"Don't be cold about this, Dean," Sam demanded. "You care about Harry just as much as I do. Don't pretend you don't."

"I'm not pretending anything," Dean said dismissively, glancing away from his brother. "Doesn't mean I'm going to cry about it."

"Fuck you, Dean."

"Don't be a bitch, Sammy."

"I'm not playing, Dean." Sam stood up from behind the desk and began packing the occult books away. "You can't run from Harry, Dean. He's certainly not running from you."

"What does that mean?"

"You haven't seen him once, Dean. He's been down there for a week and you haven't visited him once." Sam took the box of books and stalked to the door. "You haven't even taken guard duty."

Dean leaped off the couch and blocked Sam's path. "You think I don't want to? You think that he's left my mind for one second since Nebraska?"

"Than deal with it, Dean. Go see him."

Sam pushed past Dean and walked out of the study leaving Dean in his wake.

* * *

_The Panic Room_

Harry and Dean stared at each other from across the panic room. Harry seated on his squeaky cot and Dean at the entranceway. Dean seemed content to just stare at Harry.

"My Dad said you were tortured," Dean said, finally breaking the tense silence.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding.

"You look good," Dean said simply.

Harry chuckled nervously. "Thanks… I think."

"I meant you must heal fast," Dean clarified. "Faster than human."

"If one more person refers to me as something other than human I might explode," Harry complained frustrated. "It's enough to give a guy a complex or something."

"Right, you do spells and stuff."

"And stuff," Harry muttered.

Dean glanced around as if looking for something to make conversation about. Harry wasn't surprised when his attention stalled on the poster. "Bobby's got taste."

"I knew you'd like that poster," Harry joked.

Silence reined as Dean shuffled his feet. Harry took his time picking at the nails, content to wait for Dean to speak again.

"I feel like I should be saying something," Dean confessed. "Like I should be angrier or disappointed or something."

"So what _do_ you feel, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Stupid, mostly."

"I make you feel stupid?" Harry asked, hurt. "Why?"

"I should have seen it," Dean said angrily. "You were a threat to Sam and I should have seen it. It was too convenient the way you were in our lives. I should have stopped you."

"Stopped me?" Harry echoed back, a hollow feeling settling within him.

"I didn't mean to say that."

"Out loud, you mean."

"I don't even know why I came here."

"Then leave, Dean. Just leave."

* * *

_The Singer Home_

Dean paced in front of Sam's closed door. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. Finally he knocked rapidly three times and waited for Sam to answer.

"Dean?" Sam asked, confused.

"I need to talk to you," Dean said, pushing his way into the room.

"Sure," Sam said, closing the door behind him. "Come right in."

Dean noticed the scattering of books that littered Sam's bed. Dean picked up one of the books. "You still reading this crap?"

"If you're just going to make fun of me, Dean, than just get out," Sam warned his older brother. "I have my own issues to deal with."

"Fuck it," Dean said after pacing for a moment.

"Does that mean you're going to tell me what's been eating you?" Sam asked. Dean nodded.

"You have to promise never to tell a soul, Sam," Dean said forcefully. This time it was Sam who was nodding in agreement.

"I think Harry put a spell on me," Dean muttered.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam asked, confused.

"I think," Dean repeated slowly, "that Harry put a spell on me."

Sam let out a breath. "Okay, and why do you think that?"

"You know me, Sam," Dean said, laying out his case. "Since we were kids have I ever once been interested in a guy? Have I ever once had any interest in being monogamous?"

Sam smiled at the sight of Dean grimacing at the word 'monogamous'. "I don't know, Dean. Honestly, I tried to just ignore you and your conquests."

Dean grimaced. "Don't say it like that, Sam, it makes me sound so man-whore."

Sam wisely refrained from commenting.

"So?" Dean asked after Sam stayed silent for a minute. "What do you think?"

"How do you feel about Harry?" Sam asked cautiously. "I mean, when you're with him… do you get _excited?_"

"Dude!"

"Look I know this is awkward –"

"Damn right, it is."

"– but we never talked about your relationship with Harry," Sam finished. "We found out the same night that we thought he had died, and then you were mourning him…"

"I get it, okay?" Dean muttered in defeat. "This is one of those chick-flick moments I can never avoid. I get it."

"It might help to review it," Sam suggested hopefully. "Figure out if Harry did influence you or not."

"Okay, I guess."

"So," Sam said, quietly pleased that he was finally getting his questions about his brother and his best friend's relationship answered. "When did you meet?"

Dean blushed. "Awhile ago."

"Anything more specific?" Sam teased.

"It was the first night of your freshman year at Stanford."

"What? That long ago?"

Dean cleared his throat nervously. "Well, um, I may have been keeping an eye on you. Making sure your first day of school went well."

"You always did drop me off on the first day."

"What can I say? I'm a good big bro."

* * *

_The Panic Room_

Harry was surprised when it was Dean that opened the panic room door late that night.

"You came back," Harry noted hopefully.

Dean shrugged. "You're surprised?"

"I didn't think you wanted to see me…"

"I had a conversation with Sam," Dean explained. "He changed my mind."

"So you weren't going to come back," Harry muttered, sitting on the cot.

"I need to ask you something, Harry," Dean said seriously. "And don't lie to me or I really won't come back. Ever."

Harry nodded. "Okay, ask away."

"Did you ever do any of that… magic shit… on me?" Dean asked, shuffling his feet and only looking at Harry out of the corner of his eyes.

Harry thought for a moment. Dean didn't want him to lie, but Harry had never cast anything harmful on Dean. He could just lie and not risk Dean's anger on having been the subject of Harry's magic on a few occasions. Eventually Harry decided to do what Dean wanted and nodded truthfully.

Harry watched Dean's body tense up. Harry could see the anger in Dean's face. He knew his lover – former lover – well enough to read his silent expressions. Merlin, he hoped Dean was going to move on to another emotion soon.

"What did you do?" Dean growled, stalking closer to the cot. Harry scooted backwards on the bed.

"It wasn't anything harmful, Dean," Harry said quickly. "I swear."

"What. Was. It."

Harry blushed. "Remember that night at the dorm? After you showed up drunk and passed out against the door of Sam's dorm room?"

"Yeah, I remember," Dean admitted, also blushing. "That was my Stud Night."

"Oh, Merlin," Harry giggled, momentarily breaking the tension. "I forgot you called it that."

"Dude, I lasted hours!" Dean defended. "Why wouldn't I call it that?"

"Yeah, about that…"

Dean's eyes widened. "That was what… a sex spell?"

Harry nodded. "You didn't seem to mind."

"Any other sex stuff?" Dean asked nervously.

"Relax, Dean," Harry reassured him, "the only other sex stuff I did was to remove clothes and provide lubrication for myself."

"So the rest of the time…"

"Was all you and Big Dean," Harry finished with a small smile.

"So what else did you do with your magic mumbo-jumbo?" Dean asked, getting back on target.

"I think the only other spell was a tracking charm on your jacket," Harry answered. "Which I can mend, by the way. I know how much that leather means to you."

"Thanks," Dean replied. "And that was all? Really?"

"What do you think I did to you, Dean?"

Dean sighed. "Sammy was wondering if maybe your magic might have, you know, drawn us together."

Harry frowned. "Like with a love potion or something?"

"You can make those?" Dean asked worriedly.

"You really think I'd do that?" Harry asked angrily. "You think I duped you into this?"

"No," Dean answered shakily, "Sammy was just wondering. I know better."

"Don't lie, Dean," Harry said dejectedly. "If you have doubts about us than just say so. But don't use my magic as an excuse to hide from the truth. Not about you, or us."

"I'm not."

"Sure."

Dean walked over and knelt between Harry's legs. Dean laid his hands on Harry's jeans and ran his hands up his thighs to his hips. Dean's head disappeared under Harry's shirt and he put his tongue in Harry's navel as he started kissing his abdomen. Still too nervous to move, Harry just hummed with pleasure. Dean's fingers found their way into the belt loops and tugged. Harry lifted his body off the bed to aid in Dean's efforts to deprive him of clothing.

Harry leaned forward and mirrored Dean's action with the hem of Dean's shirt. The shirt slipped off of Dean's back and pulled it over the hunter's head. Harry bent down to nuzzle kisses at Dean's neck. While his hands were caressing Dean's naked back, Harry breathed in Dean's scent.

Dean climbed on to the mattress and on top of Harry. Dean kept grating his hips against Harry's causing several breathless moans, which he felt against his skin. Dean's dexterous hands found the bottom of Harry's t-shirt and expertly lifted it from him to expose more of his enticing body. Dean immediately made to devour the newly exposed skin with his tongue. Harry's nipples were drawn tense when Dean lavished attention to each one in turn drawing tiny gasps from the sleek specimen in his grasp.

Without interrupting the assault of each other's body, they managed to shed the remainder of their clothes. The two aroused lovers eventually came to stop, content to just hold one another again. Harry nestled his head back on Dean's shoulder while Dean allowed his lips to fondle Harry's ear. They continued to touch and brush the skin of each other with their hands losing any coherent thoughts in the sensual caresses. Dean wound his hand in Harry's soft hair and grasped it firmly to turn Harry's head and lay him over to the side and claim Harry's lips with his own in almost desperation. The fevered kiss was long and deep and left them breathless.

"I thought I'd lost you," Dean whispered painfully.

"I thought I was lost," Harry confessed back.

Dean smirked. "That was so touchy-feely I should be running for the door."

Harry smiled. "I'm glad you stayed then."

"We still have a lot to work out," Dean said, his expression absolutely serious. "You lied to me and I honestly don't know if I can trust you anymore."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Big Dean dug into Harry's thigh, drawing his attention away from Dean's face. Harry smirked.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. "I haven't gotten laid in forever."

Harry's expression and the hand on Dean's arm both tightened. "You really didn't sleep with anyone else? Even though you thought I was dead?"

Dean didn't answer verbally. Instead he pressed a kiss to Harry's lips and began the action again. Harry wasn't sure what kind of response that was meant to be but agreed to put it out of his mind… for the time being.

"Can you do that lube spell?" Dean asked breathily.

Harry nodded and mentally cast the spell. Dean's hand gently touched the cleft of Harry's buttocks and traced the crevice down to massage the warmed lubrication around the opening. When Dean began to slip his finger in and out of the constricted passage Harry whimpered with ecstasy.

"Please, Dean…more."

Dean obliged with another finger and then after awhile added another plunging them deep into the recess of Harry's body. Harry bit his bottom lip while the waves of sexual rapture wafted over his body.

"Yes….oh sweet Merlin, yes….Dean, now, please…"

Slipping his fingers from Harry, Dean positioned himself at the entrance to Harry's begging body and teased Harry's opening with the tip of Big Dean. Dean grinned.

"Do you want it, Harry?"

"Please..."

Dean slipped into Harry's tight split and Harry moaned with pleasure. Dean set a quick rhythm of thrusts into Harry's body continuing to plunge deeper and deeper as his ebony haired lover's opening allowed.

"Dean…yes…harder…"

Dean's hands gripped Harry's hips like a vice and pulled him back to meet every thrust and he bit his lip as he tried to control his imminent release. Dean continued to increase the pressure of his thrusts sending him further into the depth of Harry's body. Dean reached around to grab Harry and began to stroke it in time with his own plunges.

"Harry….fuck…yes," Dean wound his other hand in Harry's hair again and yanked his head back to whisper nonsense in his ear.

Upon hearing Dean's words breathed into his ear, Harry slammed his eyes shut, breathing heavily and feeling the onslaught of orgasm beginning to surge through his body. At last the searing euphoria burst within him flooding him with the joy of his release. Harry's body involuntarily jerked and the muscles surrounding Big Dean tightened.

With a fervid need, Dean drove himself into the taut crevice again and again, his body pleading for the mercy of relief. With a final whimper into Harry's neck, Dean's body expelled itself deep within Harry.

Dean lay his sweat drenched forehead on Harry's back while his body shook and trembled at the completion of his labor. Dean removed himself from Harry and wrapped his arms around him while they little by little regained in their speedy breaths.

When they were clean and dry, they climbed under the bed sheets and tangled themselves comfortably around one another. They each enjoyed a long silence of just holding and touching, sweet kisses and appreciating each other.

The rest could wait until morning.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The news that made my New Year's FANTASTIC is that "You Leave the World Behind" has been nominated for THREE awards in the Always Hoping Harry Potter Fanfiction Awards. The nominations were in the categories of "Best WIP", "Best Slash" and "Best Crossover". **Scarletsptember** was also nominated for her amazing writing talent. Voting hasn't begun yet, but you should definitely check out the site! It's awesome and the other fanfics nominated are definitely worth reading. Here's the link (just eliminate the spaces): http:// always-hoping . 110mb . com

I love my cliffhangers but I figured I'd give everyone a break from them. Especially since the next two chapters have the biggest, most shocking cliffhangers yet. Not kidding. Here's a hint: a plot point you guys have been _seriously_ asking about since chapter 1 is brought into play… and that's a pretty blatant hint lol.

The next two chapters are the last two in the story before the epilogue. I go back to school next weekend so I'm going to do my best to get the next chapters out before then, but no promises.

How about a reward *cough* bribe *cough* for reviews? If we break, say, 700 reviews then I will post the chapter the Very. Next. Day.

If everyone leaves just one review we could have a new chapter by Tuesday :)

Thanks for reading and, as always, Don't Forget To REVIEW!!!


	13. Earth, Wind and Liars

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize, and is original material, is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** I knew we'd get to 700 reviews but I didn't think we'd get past that!!! You guys rock!

Just a few quick clarifications from last chapter: All of those scenes were just snippets of Harry's time as a prisoner in the panic room. John interrogated him several times a day, every day. Sam and Bobby's visits were more frequent and gradually friendlier. It would have taken several chapters to cover all of them properly so I just included the parts that were most relevant to the story as a whole.

This chapter picks up a few hours after the end of the last one, just so you know.

WARNINGS FOR **EXTREME, GRAPHIC SEXUAL SITUATIONS** AND, OF COURSE, **EVIL CLIFFHANGERS!!!**

As always, check out the Author's Notes at the end of the chapter for more information :)

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 12:  
"****Earth, Wind & Liars"**

"It feels like the first time,  
It feels like the very first time.  
I have waited a lifetime,  
Spent my time so foolishly.  
But now that I've found you,  
Together we'll make history."

- Foreigner, _Feels Like The First Time_

THEN…

_With a fervid need, Dean drove himself into the taut crevice again and again, his body pleading for the mercy of relief. With a final whimper into Harry's neck, Dean's body expelled itself deep within Harry._

_Dean lay his sweat drenched forehead on Harry's back while his body shook and trembled at the completion of his labor. Dean removed himself from Harry and wrapped his arms around him while they little by little regained in their speedy breaths._

_When they were clean and dry, they climbed under the bed sheets and tangled themselves comfortably around one another. They each enjoyed a long silence of just holding and touching, sweet kisses and appreciating each other._

_The rest could wait until morning._

* * *

NOW…

Harry sighed contentedly as he felt soft lips pressing against his shoulder blade. Dean's long arms were locked around him, keeping Harry's back tight against the hunter's muscled chest. Harry's toes curled as Dean's lips made contact with his neck, before teeth tugged playfully at his earlobes. Dean buried his nose in Harry's hair and inhaled lightly, remembering the scent of his lover.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Smelling you," Dean answered, taking another whiff. "I missed your scent."

"I wasn't exactly given showers while I was away, Dean," Harry said embarrassed. "And the cleaning charms I've been using down here only go so far."

Dean closed his arms tighter around Harry. "You've been doing magic down here?"

"Um… yes?"

Dean felt Harry nudge at his arms and loosened them enough for Harry to renegotiate their positions. Harry twisted in Dean's arms and brought their fronts together, burying himself in Dean's chest. Dean locked his arms around Harry again.

"Is that a problem?" Harry asked hesitantly after listening to Dean's heart pumping through his chest.

"No," Dean said, clearly unnerved at the idea. "I just… Bobby said this room had really powerful protections. We just assumed they would block your abilities."

"I didn't do anything big," Harry clarified. "Just simple stuff for comfort. Like making the bed bigger, more comfortable… a few cleaning charms so I don't go ripe down here."

Dean frowned, realizing for the first time that both of them wouldn't have fit on the cot normally. How had he missed that?

"I knew this mattress couldn't be this comfortable normally," Dean muttered aloud. Harry pressed an amused kiss into his shoulder.

"You're not still worried I made you gay with a spell are you?" Harry asked, poking Dean in his stomach.

"No," Dean denied with a grin, "though Big Dean might disagree."

To emphasize his point he pushed Big Dean against Harry's own counterpart. Harry moaned at the contact.

Harry returned Dean's grin and asked, "Oh, really? Maybe I should interrogate Big Dean a little? See if I can't change his mind…"

Dean surprised Harry by bringing his face up to meet his. He kissed Harry soundly on the lips before shaking his head. "I'm not taking advantage of you again, Harry. You always go down, and I always let you."

Harry shrugged, "I know you're not 100% comfortable with it."

"And I'm not going to adjust if I don't get used to it, am I?" Dean challenged. "Besides… I want to."

Harry bit his lip, looking concerned.

"That is, unless you don't want me to?" Dean asked nervously, seeing Harry's less than excited expression.

"I do, it's just…"

"Just what?"

Harry ducked his head into Dean' shoulder and mumbled something inaudible. Dean forced Harry to come out of hiding. "Sorry, didn't catch that last bit, Harry."

Harry sighed. "That's what the shape shifter said to me. It's how he got me to drop my guard."

Dean froze at the mention of the incident with the shape shifter. "Oh."

"I know you're not a shifter, Dean."

"That's good… I guess."

Harry felt Big Dean deflating against his thigh. Dean unlocked his arms from around Harry and let himself fall back completely against the mattress. Harry stayed at his side, looking down at him.

"I guess I didn't think about that," Dean murmured softly. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Dean," Harry assured him. "I let myself get fooled because I was such an idiot. There were so many signs that that thing wasn't you and I missed them all. It was my fault."

"That's not why I'm sorry, Harry," Dean explained. "I know he used my form to… to seduce you. I should have thought about that before attacking you last night."

"Why would that matter?" Harry asked, confusion etched across his features.

"Doesn't it make you uncomfortable?" Dean asked nervously, eyes never meeting Harry's. "You must not want me touching you."

"And I thought I was the idiot," Harry said, smiling slightly. Harry grabbed Dean's hips and hoisted himself up so that he was straddling Dean. Harry let his ass fall gently on top of Big Dean, his own member pointing rigidly up at Dean's bellybutton. "Does it feel like I don't want you touching me, Dean?"

"No," Dean answered, dazed at the pleasurable feeling of Harry on top of him. Big Dean was poised perfect between Harry's ass cheeks. Just a little push and their previous show would have an encore.

"Then don't worry about it," Harry ordered, rocking forward to gentle rub Big Dean with his ass.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied submissively. He groaned as the top of his length became wedged between Harry. Not to be outdone, Dean stroked Harry with his right hand. His left hand went to Harry's hips in an effort to get his lover to start moving.

Harry leaned down for a kiss, releasing Big Dean as his body moved into a crouching position above Dean. Dean's hands cupped Harry's face even as his hips began rising off the bed in an effort to find where Harry's body had disappeared to. Harry chuckled against his lips.

"You are so needy," Harry teased.

"Not enough love in my childhood, Harry," Dean defended, giving him his puppy eye look. "Now don't you feel bad depriving me of sex?"

Harry used a free hand to pull Big Dean up to Dean's stomach. Harry took his original position, straddling Dean, but this time kept their cocks together. Harry wrapped Dean's hand, which were much larger than Harry's, around their lengths and moved it up and down. Both men moaned at the contact.

"Fuck," Dean swore, as he realized that the light from the ceiling was growing brighter.

"That's the idea," Harry joked, increasing the pressure against Big Dean.

"No, not that," Dean said breathily, "it's getting light out."

"So?" Harry asked, not sure where Dean was going with that train of thought.

"Sam's shift starts soon," Dean explained, watching Harry's eyes go wide in understanding.

"Do we have enough time to finish?" Harry asked, starting to hump into Dean's hand in case they didn't.

Dean shook his head, "We just came a few hours ago, Harry. It's gonna take me a bit to blow again."

Harry slowed his motion against Dean. "I might have an idea… if you trust me."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked nervously at the mischievous glint in Harry's eyes. "What idea?"

"If you trust me," Harry said, pecking Dean's lips. "I know a sex spell that could help us get there faster."

Dean eyed Harry warily. "Like that one in the dorm? That lasted hours, Harry, how's that supposed to help us go faster?"

"It's a different spell," Harry explained. "It might be a little weird for you, since you've never bottomed before, but I think you'll like it."

"What do I have to do?" Dean asked, still wary but slowly warming up to the idea.

"Just lie there and enjoy," Harry said vaguely. "Do you trust me, Dean?"

Dean thought about it. He was still pissed at Harry for lying, but he already knew he'd get over that. He still wanted to know more about Harry's past and he wasn't going to stop asking questions until Harry gave up the answers. If this got Harry to be more comfortable confiding in him, than it was worth it.

Dean nodded.

"But we still have stuff to talk about after, Harry," Dean warned him, not wanting Harry to take his acceptance as a sign that all was forgiven or understood.

"I know, Dean," Harry said softly, a sad smile on his face. "Are you ready?"

Dean nodded. Harry moved down Dean's body, pressing kisses everywhere but on Big Dean. At first Dean thought Harry was going to try sucking on his Big Dean's two friends, but then he felt Harry's slick finger entering him.

"Are you crazy?" Dean practically shouted, his voice going high pitched in surprise. "I didn't agree to bottom!"

Harry grinned up at him. "And you won't. You trust me, remember?"

Dean nodded reluctantly and laid back down on the mattress at Harry's glare. He felt Harry stretch him awkwardly, not acknowledging that it didn't feel so terrible with Harry's fingers inside him. He felt Big Dean jerk slightly as the idea of Harry's mouth on him while his fingers invaded him.

_Maybe next time… _Dean thought.

Suddenly he felt Harry's fingers hit something inside of him that _really_ liked getting attention. Dean yelped and then shuddered in pleasure.

"Is that it?" Dean asked, raising his head slightly, trying to see what Harry was doing.

"No," Harry said from below him, "that's just your prostate. You know, that lovely pleasure target I always ask you to hit. My spell stimulates yours, as if it were me inside of you hitting your pleasure button. Hang on, I'm going to apply the charm now…"

Dean's hands fisted the sheets as he felt Harry's spell connect with his prostate. It tingled in pleasure and burned as the magic coated the organ. "Oh, shit… that's fucking amazing."

Harry climbed back on top of him, idly stroking Big Dean. "Alright, I'm going to do my lubrication charm and then we're in business."

Dean nodded waiting for the feeling of his prostate being pleasured to return. He frowned when, after several minutes of Harry stretching himself, that the feeling did not return.

"I don't think it's working, Harry," Dean said, surprising himself with his disappointed tone.

"Don't worry," Harry assured him, "it will."

With that Harry aimed Big Dean at his entrance and began to impale himself. Dean groaned at the tightness that was swallowing him whole. After giving Harry a moment to adjust, Dean gave a gentle thrust. Harry moaned.

"Now look for that special spot, Dean," Harry instructed, moving himself up and down. Dean began his usual route of just letting Harry bob up and down on top of him. Eventually he began angling himself inside Harry, waiting for the tell tale reaction that he'd found Harry's prostate. A second after Dean felt himself brush against the prostate Harry gave a low groan of approval.

"HOLY SHIT!" Dean screamed in pleasure, stopping himself and Harry from moving. His body shuddered in pleasure as his prostate exploded in euphoria. Harry smiled in pride.

"It's the spell, Dean," Harry explained with a grin. "Every time you hit my prostate, the spell activates on your own prostate."

"This is what you feel every time?" Dean asked in disbelief.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "You were worried that you would take too long to finish so I may have amped up the juice a little."

"A little?" Dean echoed back suspiciously.

Harry shrugged innocently. "What you feel is what I feel… just maximized by five times."

"You'll be the death of me," Dean muttered into his lover's shoulder.

"Look on the bright side," Harry joked, a happy grin plastered on his face, "it brings a whole new meaning to 'go fuck yourself', doesn't it?"

Dean didn't get a chance to respond as Harry began riding him, full force. Harry was careful not to let Dean hit the prostate too many times for fear that Big Dean would arrive too early. Dean became absolutely convinced that the spell was increasing the pleasure level each time, as the intensity only appeared to rise. He was just too happy to care at the moment.

Harry knew Dean had had enough when he began to babble incoherently. Harry looked lovingly at the big goofy grin on Dean's face and knew that he'd always love Dean. He just hoped that Dean would eventually come to the same conclusion.

He recast the silencing spell he'd placed on the panic room, knowingly from past experience that Dean was unreasonably loud when he climaxed due to sex spells. Not that Harry minded…

Seconds later Dean was crying out in surprise and Harry felt Big Dean shooting inside of him. Harry gave in to his own weakness and let himself spill freely between them. Then Dean's tongue was inside his mouth and all coherent thoughts were gone from his mind…

* * *

Dean shut the large panic room door behind him, tensing as the sound of the metallic clang echoed off the walls. He waited nervously to see if anyone would come running, but apparently no one had been awakened by the noise.

Dean checked his watch and blew a breath of relieved air. Harry had woken him with only a few minutes to spare before Sam's watch was officially supposed to begin. Dean grinned at the memory of Harry helping him get dressed. He'd never thought having someone put your clothes _on_ could be just as exciting as having someone take them off.

Knowing there was no way for him to get busted for his night with Harry, he collapsed into the guard chair that Bobby had placed outside of the door. He combed his hair with his hand and tried to get his heart rate back under control. He'd always thought that that night with Harry in the dormitory had been the best sex he'd ever had; now he knew he was dead wrong. The best sex of his life had just taken place… and he had a future of more time with Harry to look forward to.

_Hmm, _Dean thought to himself,_ maybe dating a Wizard isn't so bad after all_.

Loud, clumsy footsteps echoed down the hallway alerting Dean to Sam's arrival. Dean shook his head in criticism of Sam's stealth technique.

"What?" Sam asked, looking down at his shirt to see if he'd spilled any of his breakfast on it.

"How long have you been my little brother and I still can't get you to walk quietly?" Dean commented dryly.

"What's up your butt?" Sam asked grumpily.

Dean choked and turned bright red.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked, rushing to his side.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean said, waving him off. "I'm fine. Just a long night. I'm going to go get some shut eye."

"If you're sure?" Sam asked concerned.

Dean nodded, "It'd take a lot more than a night with no sleep to get to me, Sammy."

Dean made it half way down the corridor before Sam's voice stopped him. "Oh, Dean?"

"What?" Dean snapped, turning around to fix his younger brother with a sharp glare.

Sam grinned mischievously. "You might want to zip up your fly before Dad sees you."

Dean looked down and, sure enough, his fly was open and the bottom of his AC/DC shirt was sticking through. Dean blushed. So much for Harry helping him get dressed.

"Not one word, Sammy," Dean threatened, already fleeing the scene. "Not one fucking word."

* * *

Dean traded an amused Sam for guard duty again that night.

"Have a good night, Dean," Sam teased on his way out of the panic room. Harry waited until Dean had closed the door behind him before giving him a welcoming kiss.

"What was that for?" Dean asked, pleasantly surprised by Harry's loving attentions.

Harry shrugged. "For last night, for this morning, for… right now."

Harry's hands undid Dean's jeans buckle and then the button and zipper. Dean took Harry's hand and trapped them in his own grip.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. "I thought we were going to… you know…"

Dean shook his head. "I think we've done enough of that for one day. We should talk."

"Okay," Harry agreed nervously. "What do you want to talk about first?"

Dean led Harry to the cot and climbed onto the magically expanded mattress. He scooted all the way against the wall and motioned for Harry to join him. Harry paused for a moment, obviously debating whether or not to bolt, and then climbed in. The fact that Dean had arranged them exactly as they had been that morning while cuddling was not lost on Harry.

"First things first, Harry," Dean said formally. "Ground rules."

"Funny I thought you were, Dean, not Sam," Harry joked nervously. Dean put a finger to Harry's lips to silence him. Harry nodded when his nerves died down and Dean removed the offending finger.

"First rule is that there are no more lies," Dean said. "I think we can both agree to that one easily enough." Harry nodded.

"Okay, that was the only rule I thought of," Dean confessed, looking around the room awkwardly. Harry giggled at Dean's sudden idiocy.

"How about we _both_ have to answer questions?" Harry suggested firmly, challenging the sudden defiance in Dean's eyes. "Fair is fair, Winchester."

Dean rolled his eyes in compliance. "Deal."

"So what do you want to know?" Harry asked, nerves returning. _What if Dean wanted to know if he'd ever tortured someone? Even if it was Bella, who deserved much worse for what she'd done to Sirius, it might make Dean distrust him. And what about Sirius? How were Dean and the rest of his hunter family going to take to the idea of an ex-convict with magical powers roaming the world? Sweet Merlin, Harry was going to have to explain the whole 'I'm from another universe' thing!_

"Harry, calm down!" Dean ordered, shaking Harry after he'd zoned out for a few minutes. "Will you relax?"

"I'm fine," Harry lied.

"It's okay, Harry," Dean told him reassuringly. "I'm nervous to how you'll react to some of my shit, too. Granted, it's probably not as bad as your Wizard shit."

"There's nothing wrong with my 'Wizard shit', Dean Winchester," Harry defended. "You hunters are just too narrow minded to think that anything non-human could be good."

"We'll see," Dean murmured to himself.

Harry glared at him before nestling into Dean's shoulder. "Go on, Dean, ask me something."

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Dean asked immediately. He cringed when he felt Harry tense in his arms.

"Going right for the throat, aren't you?" Harry noted, making Dean feel guilty. "Can't say I'm surprised though. You must have been thinking about that for some time."

Dean nodded. "Sorry, it's just… I gotta know."

Harry sighed. "I'm assuming you mean besides the demons that I killed trying to save you and Sammy's lives? Than the answer is yes, I have killed before. But they weren't good people and they always meant someone severe harm."

"So no sacrificing babies or anything?" Dean asked, sounding relieved.

Harry's eyes went wide. "What kind of witches do you people have here?"

Dean shrugged. "Apparently the bad kind."

"My turn," Harry said. "You ever want to be something besides a hunter?"

This time it was Dean who tensed. "No."

Harry pinched his nipple hard. "Don't lie."

"A fireman, okay?" Dean asked waiting for Harry to stop with the nipple pinching. "They gave a talk at my school when I was in kindergarten and they were the coolest guys I'd ever seen."

"And you wonder if you've ever been into men," Harry muttered to himself, before adding aloud, "So why didn't you pursue it?"

"Dad needed me," Dean said in a shamed whisper. "Sammy needed me."

Harry kissed the nipple through the shirt in support. "Your question."

"You asked what kind of witches we had 'here'," Dean echoed Harry's statement. "Where are you from where the witches are, I guess, good?"

"I'm from an alternate plane of existence," Harry said flatly, hoping that Dean would think he was joking.

"A what?"

Harry sighed. "I come from a world that's parallel to this one. One where magic is commonplace and there are no hunters or evil demons… at least, as far as I know."

"Sounds like a cool place," Dean said wistfully. "Did you ever meet us there?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "I can't believe how well you're accepting this."

"Dude, I hunt supernatural beings everyday. Who else could accept it?"

Harry chuckled. "I guess you're right."

"Are there more of you here?" Dean asked. "I mean, should we start asking every hoodoo doer if they're from an alternate universe?"

"As far as my people knew, the device that sent people here was meant to kill them," Harry explained. "So there aren't that many around. My godfather was sent here ahead of me though."

"If that's true than why were you and your godfather sent here?"

Harry realized the mistake he'd made. He had no choice but to commit to just telling the truth and moving forward. "My godfather was murdered with the device. Luckily it sent him here instead of killing him."

"And you?" Dean asked, his body clinging to Harry's.

"I… I used it voluntarily."

Dean looked Harry in the eyes. "You tried to off yourself?"

Harry nodded, his eyes brimming slightly. "I was so alone, Dean. My parents died when I was a baby. I lost most of my friends over the years. Sirius, my godfather, he was all I had left."

Dean let out a shaky breath. "Everyone who would ever care if I were dead or alive is living under this roof, Harry. I can understand feeling alone. If anything ever happened that took you all away from me…"

Harry was overcome by the impulse to kiss Dean. Dean leaned into the comfort of Harry's embrace. Their arms wrapped around each other trying to fuse their bodies together out of pure will and desperation.

"You're not alone anymore," Dean whispered to Harry.

"Neither are you, Dean."

* * *

_The Singer Residence_

"I thought you had a shift now?" John asked from his spot in front of the television as Sam entered the living room.

Sam grinned at his father. "Dean traded me for it."

John frowned. "I thought he was avoiding the witch."

"Wizard," Sam corrected his father for the umpteenth time. It was clear that his father had been drinking heavily that night. "Harry says that only female practitioners are called Witches. The men are called Wizards."

"You some kind of expert now?"

Sam held up the Occult book in his hands. "Not for a lack of trying. I must have skimmed every book Bobby has on the subject."

"Find anything on 'wizards' yet?" John asked.

Sam shook his head. "They must be extremely rare. I've never seen a demon worshipper wield so much power before. It would explain why no one seems to have heard of them before."

"It would explain why Azazel was so interested in him, too," John speculated. "Or they're in cahoots with each other."

"Not even Azazel would sacrifice his own children just to get to you, Dad," Sam argued.

"We only believe that that Meg woman and her brother were the demon's kids because Dean's fuck buddy says so," John said dismissively. "For whatever that's worth."

"You better not let Dean hear you say that," Sam warned his father. "Or Harry for that matter."

John picked the gun that Sam hadn't seen him concealing and began cleaning. "If that wizard makes one wrong move he won't have the chance to do shit about it."

Sam shuddered at the memory of his father shooting Harry. "I think we can trust him, Dad."

"Trust will get you killed, Sammy," John said. "These supernatural things are packaged to be all innocent looking so that they can get close to you. It's when you trust them that they stab you in the back."

"Harry was my best friend for four years, Dad," Sam argued. "We slept in the same room together at night. He could have killed me anytime he wanted to. Hell, come to think of it, he and Dean slept together at night. If Harry had meant any of us real harm wouldn't he have made his move before now?"

"He ever tell you he was a wizard?" John asked ruefully. "He ever pull out his little wooden wand and clean the dorm room for you?"

"No," Sam responded, "but I never said I was a hunter for the same reasons. People just don't understand this life."

"He lied to you about dating Dean," John pointed out.

"Just like Dean lied to me about dating Harry," Sam returned quickly. "Should I not trust my own brother?"

John's eyes narrowed. "Your brother's had a lax in judgment about this whole issue, Sam."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means, Sam."

Sam sighed dejectedly. "Can't you see that Harry's different, Dad?"

"They all claim to be different, Sammy," John said, taking another drink. "It always ends the same way though."

John cocked the gun.

"Someone always has to die."

* * *

_The Panic Room_

The next morning Sam showed up early to his shift and waited for Dean to exit the panic room. Sam rolled his eyes as Dean stepped through the metal door while he was still stuffing his shirt back into his pants.

"Did you remember your zipper this time?" Sam teased. Dean jumped in surprise and fumbled for his gun before he realized that it was Sam waiting for him.

"Was I running late?" Dean asked confused as to why Sam was waiting for him.

Sam shook his head. "Just decided to be early is all."

Dean eyed his younger brother suspiciously but eventually shrugged it off. "You are such a geek, Sam."

"Bitch," Sam called after Dean's retreating form.

"Jerk," Dean yelled back over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs leading up to the house. Sam waited until he was sure that Dean was gone before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

"Harry?" Sam yelled into the room. He kept his eyes closed in case Harry hadn't completely dressed from his second night with Dean.

He heard Harry chuckle in amusement. "I'm decent, Sam. Not that you haven't seen it all before."

Sam blushed. "Don't remind me. There's a reason Jess always called you the exhibitionist."

"What can I say?" Harry shrugged in false humility. "I'm just proud of my body and not afraid to show it off. Too bad you don't feel the same way about yourself, Sam."

"I'm proud of my body!" Sam defended, blushing at Harry's teasing side coming out. He'd missed the playful banter.

Harry snorted. "Oh, please, whenever we went swimming you still wore a shirt in the pool, Sam."

"Jess never minded."

"Because Jess knew how damn good you looked in a wet t-shirt," Harry teased. "Probably better than in just the swim trunks."

Sam laughed. "I've missed this."

"Me, too," Harry confessed with a happy grin.

"Is that grin for me or something Dean left behind?" Sam teased back.

This time it was Harry who blushed. "Sam!"

"What?" Sam shrugged, not at all ashamed. "I've waited years for you to get serious about someone so that, for once, I could be the one doing all of the teasing!"

Harry put up his hands in defeat. "Alright, I guess I deserve it."

Sam nodded in victory. "Damn right."

"So are you here to tease me about my love life or did you have something specific you wanted to talk about?" Harry asked.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "I had a question about your magic."

"Oh?" Harry asked, his voice higher than usual.

"My dad mentioned something about a wooden wand last night?" Sam explained. "It could help in my research to prove that your kind of Wizard really does exist."

Harry frowned. "Your dad never asked me about wands, but I assume you have the same stereotypes here that I did in my world about Wizards?"

Sam nodded. "Probably. We've got the whole flying broomsticks, warts on noses, toad kissing, curse casting, wand waving stereotypes here."

"Close enough," Harry agreed.

"Wait," Sam said, pausing. "Did you say 'my world'? As in a world different than this one?"

Harry smiled nervously. "Oh, right. I never told you about that."

"Do you mean to tell me that I spent the last week looking up information on witches and wizards and it doesn't mean jack shit because you're not even from _this_ world?"

"Well, um… yes. Sorry."

"How in God's name did you travel between worlds? Can other wizards do that?"

Harry nodded his head. "They could but it's kind of a one way trip and the consequences are pretty dire. In that way, not many people would."

"But your kind has before?" Sam asked, curious.

Harry nodded. "At least once before. The others could have traveled to an infinite number of other options."

"If one of your kind has been here before than they would have been noticed by someone," Sam decided, taking a deep breath of relief. "If they have, than someone wrote it down somewhere which means I didn't just waste all of my time."

"Happy it worked out."

"Me, too," Sam replied. "Okay, I'm off to read some more. I'll check in later for more information on this other world traveler."

Harry felt a warm, comforting feeling in the pit of his stomach. "If you could find him, Sam, you'd have no idea how important to me it would be."

Sam passed him a piece of paper and a pen. "Jot down a description of the guy, and I'll see if anyone's spotted him doing some major magic."

"Thanks, Sam."

"Anytime, Harry."

* * *

_The Next Day_

_The Singer Residence_

Bobby opened the paper and glanced at it as he started making his favorite sandwich; a BLT with extra bacon. So what if it was bad for his ticker? Bacon wasn't what was going to kill him so who gave two shits about cholesterol?

Bobby sighed as the phone began ringing just as he began placing the turkey.

"Hello?" Bobby shouted into the house. "Ain't somebody gonna answer that damn phone?"

There was no response from the silent home. Bobby growled in annoyance as he realized that Dean was visiting with Harry and Sam was guarding the door. They wouldn't be able to hear him from beneath the ground where the panic room was hidden. John had gone out to check the traps.

Since they'd brought Harry to the safe house they'd been cautious of any reprisals from the demon community. If Azazel really was after Harry he'd come after him full force. If Harry was somehow giving their location away to the enemy than the same results occurred. John and Bobby had installed demon traps around the property in case any demons decided to visit. John was currently out checking the traps.

Bobby was alone in the house with sticky turkey hands and a ringing phone.

"Aw, shit," Bobby said as he wiped his hands down the front of his shirt and answered the phone. "Singer Auto Salvage Yard. Who the hell are you?"

"Bobby?" A woman's voice asked hesitantly. "Is that you?"

"Someone else own Singer Auto Salvage and didn't tell me?" Bobby barked impatiently into the phone.

The woman on the other end of the line laughed heartily. "Oh, yes, that's the Bobby Singer I remember."

"Who is this?"

"It's Missouri, baby," Missouri said pleasantly into the phone.

Bobby's angry tirade died before it could pass his lips. "Missouri? The psychic?"

"Well that's a matter of opinion, honey," Missouri chuckled into the phone.

"Well, hey, Missouri, how you doing?" Bobby asked pleasantly. He'd always liked the woman, even if her visions gave him the creeps.

"I need to know if the Winchesters are with you?"

Bobby's welcoming smile turned into a suspicious frown. "Who are the Winchesters?"

"Don't play that game with me, honey," Missouri responded, sounding relieved. "So they are there, otherwise you wouldn't be deflecting like this."

"What's it to ya?"

"I'll explain when I get there."

"Get where?" Bobby asked into the phone. "Not my house!"

"I'll be there before nightfall."

The phone went dead. Bobby glared at the phone. Just then, John Winchester walked through the back kitchen door and nodded to Bobby.

"Does it say Singer Bed & Breakfast on my sign?" Bobby growled at the younger hunter, who shook his head confused. "Than why the hell does everyone keeping showing up here like it is one?"

Bobby stormed out of the room leaving a very confused John Winchester in his wake.

* * *

_That Night_

The three Winchesters and Bobby Singer were ready and waiting when Missouri's violet Volkswagen Beetle blew dust up the dirt driveway leading to Bobby's house.

"Hello, Bobby, John," Missouri greeted as she stepped out of her car, pushing her sunglasses up to her hairline so that they would not fall back into her face.

"Missouri," John greeted firmly. Bobby grimaced at her.

"The big one can get my bags out of the trunk," Missouri said, nodding at Sam.

Dean smirked as Sam's eyebrows up to his forehead. Sam looked to his father for guidance but John merely nudged him towards the back of the car. Sam huffed but still popped the trunk and started pulling bags out. With each new piece of luggage Sam unearthed from the trunk, Bobby's eyes grew wider.

"Planning on staying long?" Bobby asked sarcastically.

"I don't know, Bobby," Missouri said shortly.

"I thought you were some sort of psychic," Dean mocked. "How can you not know?"

John smacked Dean in the back of the head in admonishment. "Forgive the boy, Missouri, his mouth is bigger than his brain… or his manners, apparently."

"It's alright, John. I still remember how cute he was as a baby."

Sam snapped to attention at this. "You knew Dean as a baby?"

Missouri nodded with a dazzling smile. "And you, Sam. I used to babysit you as a favor to your mother."

"You left us alone with _her?_" Dean asked his father incredulously.

"Yes, he did," Missouri said angrily. "And you better watch your tone. I used to change your diaper. Always so much poop."

Dean turned bright red. Sam laughed heartily and tossed one of the suitcases to Dean.

"So why are you here, Missouri?" John asked. "Not that we aren't happy to see you."

Missouri turned a raised eyebrow on Dean. "I'm here to see _his_ boyfriend."

"You're here for Harry?" Dean asked, stepping forward angrily. "For what?"

"I'd rather not say," Missouri huffed. "It's personal."

"Sorry, Missouri," John apologized, "but I can't let you have access to my prisoner unless I know what you want with him."

Sam and Dean glared at John for calling Harry a prisoner.

"And you ain't staying here until I get those details either," Bobby added sternly.

Missouri sighed. "I've lost my sight, John."

John eyes went wide. "You what?"

"You heard me, I ain't going to repeat myself," Missouri muttered angrily. "Last thing I remember was seeing your boys come to visit me while you were up here with Bobby. But it never happened. Something changed the timeline and blocked my sight of the future."

Missouri turned her stern eyes on John. "And I'm pretty sure it's that wizard."

* * *

It was decided that Missouri would get her chance to talk to Harry the next morning. Sam had graciously given up his private room and moved into Dean's room. Dean had been upset that Sam had volunteered them to share a room. Sam had retorted that Dean spent more time in Harry's bed than in his room so what would it matter? Dean had blushed and then stormed out to visit Harry.

While Missouri got settled in his old room, Sam snuck downstairs before his Dad could start drinking. Bobby was in the kitchen feeding scraps from dinner to the dog. Sam knocked on the living room wall and waited for his Dad to acknowledge him.

"Sammy?" John asked, wondering why his son was being so formal as to knock.

"Dad," Sam acknowledged with a head nod. "Can we talk for a second?"

"I'm a little busy, Sam," John said, motioning to the research scattered across the coffee table in front of him. "Can't this wait?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dad, this is serious."

"More serious than finding out what happened to Missouri's visions?" John asked, eyebrows raised.

Sam nodded. "It's about the research I've been doing on Harry."

John motioned for Sam to join him on the sofa. Sam sat and took John's journal out from behind his back and sat it down between them.

"When did you take my journal?" John demanded angrily.

"You left it out the other night," Sam responded, trying to remain calm.

"And what does my journal have to do with the wizard?" John asked impatiently.

"Last night you mentioned Harry's wand," Sam started, trying to remind John of their conversation.

"So?"

"Harry never used his wand in front of any of us. Not even Dean."

"Again, so?"

"So how did you know about the wand, Dad?"

John shrugged dismissively, but Sam noticed the slight tension in his father's eyes. "That's what witches use right? Wands and stuff?"

Sam shook his head. "But you always taught us never to talk about the supernatural stereotypes, even when joking. You said it would make us underestimate them."

"What are you trying to say, Sam?" John asked gruffly.

"I think you knew about the wand because you've dealt with Harry's kind before."

The accusatory words sat there between father and son, creating a wall of silence between them. John took a drink of scotch before offering Sam one. Sam waved it away; he needed to keep a clear mind about this.

"I've never met anyone like Harry before," John said, but even Sam could see he was lying. A son always knows his father's lies when he knows what to look for.

Sam flipped the journal open to a page towards the beginning. "There's a section in here, towards the beginning of your career, where you talk about meeting someone with abilities like Harry's. Someone who used a wand. Someone you trusted."

John flinched. "I thought I tore out those pages."

Sam smirked and began doing internal celebratory chants. "You did, I just made a guess."

John smiled at his son. "You always were the smart one, Sammy."

"So?" Sam prompted. "Who was it?"

John sighed. "No one of importance, Sam. Not anymore."

"What happened that you tore out the pages, Dad?" Sam asked quietly, trying not to drive his father out of the conversation before he got his answers.

"I was young," John explained hollowly. "Like you and Dean. I had just met Missouri, someone who had visions, but who wasn't evil. I thought maybe there was something redeemable in some of the things I hunted. Some last vestiges of humanity in them."

"And you met a Wizard?" Sam guessed. "You befriended him?"

John nodded, eyes distant. "His name was Sirius. He was my friend… or at least that's what I thought."

"He wasn't?"

John shook his head. "He disappeared one day. I thought something had happened to him. So I tracked him, tried to save him."

Sam felt a chill run through him. He scooted closer to John and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't save him?"

"Oh, I could have." John's smile was feral and cruel. "You see, Sammy, he had betrayed me. He was never my friend. When I found him, I found him with a demon. A demon with yellow eyes."

Sam swallowed. "What did you do?"

John turned to face his son; his eyes colder than Sam had ever seen them. "I did what any good hunter is supposed to do. I put the traitorous dog down."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry this got posted late Tuesday night, but I needed to edit through it. Hope everyone still enjoyed it!

I warned everyone that you might not like the role that Sirius plays in this story. For those of you upset with me for "killing" Sirius, remember that this is but the first of five stories in this series. Also, in the Supernatural Universe, death is only the beginning so don't count Sirius out yet. I will say that his plotline will be continued in the sequel.

I've decided to split the final chapter "The Dark Night" into 2 parts because so much happens. I will say that expect the first part to be a knock down battle between Azazel and our heroes. The second part will set up a major plotline for the sequel. Stay tuned because you DO NOT want to miss what's coming :)

I go back to college on Thursday (I'm on Student Government and we have to be back earlier than the rest of the students) so it might be a bit before I update again. The earliest will be this Sunday and the latest will be next Sunday.

SHOW SOME LOVE AND REVIEW!!!


	14. The Dark Night, Pt 1

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize, and is original material, is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long to post, but I did warn that college would slow me down. In the "cup is half full" point of view, we have some new readers to welcome to our family of crossover enthusiasts. _You Leave The World Behind_ now has over 1,000-chapter update alerts sent out each time a new chapter is uploaded!

Keep in mind that I treat each story in this series as a season of Supernatural, so this is considered (to me, at least) as the first of a two-part season finale. The epilogue will be the season ending cliffhanger that gets you to read/watch the sequel/second season… and it is a BIG cliffhanger!

Since it's been so long, I'll let you get straight to the chapter and keep the rest of the information for the Author's Notes at the end of the chapter…

ENJOY & GO SAINTS!!!

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 13:  
"****The Dark Night, Part 1"**

"Can we keep our broken dream alive?  
Now more than ever, with heaven on our side.  
Can we give our love just one more night?  
Angel baby, shine your golden light.  
Now and forever, with heaven on our side.  
Can we keep our broken dream alive?"

- Foreigner, _With Heaven On Our Side_

THEN…

"_What happened that you tore out the pages, Dad?" Sam asked quietly, trying not to drive his father out of the conversation before he got his answers._

"_I was young," John explained hollowly. "Like you and Dean. I had just met Missouri, someone who had visions, but who wasn't evil. I thought maybe there was something redeemable in some of the things I hunted. Some last vestiges of humanity in them."_

"_And you met a Wizard?" Sam guessed. "You befriended him?"_

_John nodded, eyes distant. "His name was Sirius. He was my friend… or at least that's what I thought."_

"_He wasn't?"_

_John shook his head. "He disappeared one day. I thought something had happened to him. So I tracked him, tried to save him."_

_Sam felt a chill run through him. He scooted closer to John and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't save him?"_

"_Oh, I could have." John's smile was feral and cruel. "You see, Sammy, he had betrayed me. He was never my friend. When I found him, I found him with a demon. A demon with yellow eyes."_

_Sam swallowed. "What did you do?"_

_John turned to face his son; his eyes colder than Sam had ever seen them. "I did what any good hunter is supposed to do. I put the traitorous dog down."_

* * *

NOW…

Sam let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in, waiting for the confession to flow from his father's mouth. John took another swig of alcohol straight from the bottle, turning slightly away from his youngest son.

Sam gripped his shoulder and spun him back to face him. John let out a low moan, but whether it was to the pain of Sam's grip or the alcohol that spilled from the bottle Sam couldn't tell. He looked at his father more disgusted than he'd ever been in his life.

"You never thought you might have been wrong about Sirius?" Sam asked angrily. "Or was shoot first and ask questions later just an easier option?"

John's eyes flared angrily. "Watch your tongue, boy. I've been at this a lot longer than you. I'm sure of what I saw. You better think twice before you question me on it again."

Sam had always been good at reading others, understanding where they were coming from. His father was usually a blank to him except for when he was drinking and John couldn't maintain his vacant exterior. Sam could see that John wasn't sure of what he'd done, but couldn't face the idea that he might have killed his friend for nothing.

"You can't tell Dean," Sam muttered, glancing at the open door.

"Wasn't planning on it," John scoffed.

Sam gripped his father tighter. "I mean it. You didn't just kill anyone, Dad. You killed someone close to Harry."

"So?"

Sam had never been so close to punching his father before. He flexed his fingers to relieve the urge. "This could ruin what him and Dean, Dad. Don't you care about that?"

"Of course I care about Dean," John answered. "And I don't want him with that witch-boy any more than I'd want you and a demon to get together."

"They are good for each other, Dad," Sam countered, shuddering at the idea of sleeping with a demon. "Have you ever seen Dean this happy?"

John shrugged dismissively.

"Face it, Dad, before you knew it was a guy you were okay with it," Sam continued. "You really care that Dean's with a guy that much? You'd make him lose the first person he's ever fallen for? His only chance at happiness in this line of work?"

"You think I care that he likes dick now?" John asked crudely. "I didn't lecture Dean when he was sixteen and banging his physics teacher, did I? Never cared about whatever prostitute he dug himself into when we were hunting, did I? Why should I care that he's fucking a guy now?"

Sam studied his father closely, trying to catch the lie. "So it really is just the magic thing?"

"It's more than just a 'thing', Sammy," John replied gruffly. "It's not natural. It's just gonna get Dean hurt."

"Like Sirius hurt you?" Sam asked lightly. John growled, grabbed his liquor bottle and stormed out of the room.

Sam ran his hand through his long hair and prayed that his father kept his mouth shut. There was no way of knowing how Harry would react to the news. Somehow, Sam doubted that Harry would be unaffected. Worst-case scenario was that Harry killed John… which would mean that the Sam and Dean would have to kill Harry.

Sam sighed. _Why do you have to fuck everything up, Dad?_

* * *

_The Next Morning_

_The Panic Room_

When the heavy metal door began to swing open, Harry expected it to be Dean or Sam. John's interrogations had become shorter and less frequent over the weeks. Harry assumed that Dean and Sam were slowly wearing John down and that Bobby was taking Harry's side outside of the makeshift prison cell. Bobby usually chose to eat meals with him, but Bobby had just served breakfast an hour ago.

Which is why Harry had been completely surprised to see a short African-American woman on the other side of the door. Dean, Sam, John and Bobby were all standing behind her.

"Uh, hello?" Harry greeted the new woman, unsure of what was happening. Dean sent him a half-hearted look of encouragement that failed to inspire much comfort in Harry.

"So you're the one causing all these problems, eh?" Missouri asked, eyebrow raised in appraisal.

"Afraid you'd have to be more specific," Harry retorted nervously. "I tend to cause a lot of problems."

The dark woman chuckled and seemed to relax as she crossed the threshold of Harry's prison cell. John and the others made a move to follow her but she put up a hand to stop them.

"We can't leave you alone with it," John said sternly, glaring at Harry. "You're only safe outside of these walls."

"That's where you're wrong, John," the woman corrected him, sending a knowing smirk at Harry. "This boy could leave anytime he wants."

"Impossible," Bobby interjected, "I designed this room myself. Nothing supernatural gets in or out. Harry may be a handful but he ain't powerful enough to bust out of my designs."

The woman looked at Harry expectantly. Harry took the hint and conjured a table and a cushioned chair for the woman to sit on. Bobby and Sam's eyes widened at the display of power. Dean looked amused at their faces.

"If you could have left by now than why didn't you?" John challenged him.

Harry shrugged self-consciously. "And how would that have earned your trust?"

The woman nodded at the men to go, an order they reluctantly obeyed. Bobby helped drag John from the room, as the hunter clearly didn't trust Harry and one of his oldest friends alone together. Sam looked like he would give anything to be a fly on the wall of the room, but Dean kept shoving him along the walkway.

The woman reached her hand out and smiled at Harry. "I'm Missouri."

Harry eyed the hand warily before finally deciding not to shake her hand. "Forgive me if I don't shake, but I'm not sure what you can do yet."

Missouri nodded in understanding and sat at the table. "What I can do?"

"You took one look at me and knew I could leave this cell," Harry pointed out.

"So what makes you think I'd need to touch you to know you, Harry Potter?" Missouri pointed out, unsettling Harry greatly.

"Good point," Harry replied.

Missouri chuckled at his discomfort. "Relax, child, I'm not here to hurt you. That's not really my cup of tea."

"Glad to hear it," Harry replied. "So why are you here?"

"First things first," Missouri said, slipping off her shoes and stretching her toes. "I hate those things, so uncomfortable. Where were we?"

"Why you were visiting me?" Harry reminded her, incredulous at her state of friendliness. Harry wasn't used to being interrogated by the 'good cop' type. Usually his interrogators followed the code of giving up information or being punished. Luckily John Winchester's bark was worse than his bite… so far.

"Of course, of course," Missouri replied, waving her hands in the air dismissively. "I'm what you would call a psychic."

"A psychic?" Harry asked. "Is that like a seer?"

"In that we can see the future," Missouri nodded, "but my gift is very different than that which I assume you are used to dealing with. What were these 'seers' like in your world?"

"My world?" Harry choked. "How do you know about _that?_"

"There is a theory in physics that if one knows enough variables, one can predict the future," Missouri explained, ignoring Harry's question for the moment. "For example, we know what happens when you put water in a freezer."

Harry nodded, "Obviously it freezes."

"What you deem obvious is, in reality, a very complex state change," Missouri rebuked him lightly. "Our scientists believe that it is possible to predict the future, but only if one knows all of the variables necessary."

"That would mean knowing all the data in the world," Harry added.

Missouri nodded. "Exactly. My gift works in this same way. My mind can only process the basic elements of the future, so I'm only consciously aware of the major events of the world and the end results."

"What does this have to do with me?" Harry asked, confusion etched on his features.

"Everything, Harry, you have everything to do with it," Missouri answered sternly. "Before you came to this world, we were all on a direct path to our destinies. I'm not going to lie and say it was a good destiny, but there _was_ a design in place."

"And what, when I showed up it went to hell?" Harry asked.

"Not quite," Missouri corrected. "You have to remember that fate isn't so easily changed. Our whole lives have been predetermined for us through genetics and through supernatural occurrences. There are fail safes in place to keep new additions, like yourself, from changing such an intricate plot simply by showing up."

"So destiny just, what, auto-corrected?"

Missouri nodded. "You were never supposed to meet Dean, Harry. You were never supposed to be here at all. And yet… Sammy's poor little fiancée still died, the Winchesters reunited, the demons are still gathering around Azazel. You were simply added to the master plan, your destiny tangled forever with our own."

"Than why are you here now?" Harry asked. "If everything is still on track, than what's the point?"

Missouri sighed. "Because nothing is on track anymore. When Azazel kidnapped you, everything changed. I'm not sure when in your captivity it happened, but the two of you did _something_ that made the plan go to shit."

Harry shook his head. "I would never help Azazel do anything like that."

"Maybe not willingly," Missouri conceded. "It might not even have been something you did. It could be something you mentioned even. Whatever it is, Azazel has chosen a new path to follow and that changes the whole game for the rest of us."

"Is Azazel so important that he changed the fate of the whole world?" Harry asked, incredulously.

Missouri shook her head. "It's not Azazel himself, but the scheme he and Lilith were working on."

"Which was?" Harry asked after Missouri stayed silent.

"They were bringing the end of the world," Missouri whispered reverently, a tear sliding down her normally jovial face. "They were bringing Armageddon."

"Than shouldn't we be happy that it changed?" Harry asked, confused.

"You don't see it, Harry," Missouri sighed. "We would have won. Sam and Dean would have won the war for us. Many lives would have been lost, but evil would have been gone from this world for the rest of eternity. Lucifer and the whole lot of them would have been in chains in The Pit."

"And something Azazel did changes this?" Harry asked.

Missouri nodded. "Radically changed it. So much so that my gift can no longer tap into the elements necessary to see the new design. Every seer on earth is blind to the new master plan."

"Why?" Harry questioned her. "Wouldn't your sight just auto-correct once a new future was set in stone?"

Missouri nodded. "You're right, it should have. Unless there are simply too many new variables, too many new paths added or removed. The future, for the first time, is uncertain… and you have to fix it."

"Me?" Harry echoed back. "No way. I've done the hero bit before, and it doesn't end well."

"Even if Dean's life depended on it?" Missouri responded immediately. "If Sam and Bobby's did? If the whole world could fall under the yoke of Lucifer? You'd turn the reins over to someone else?"

"Who says Sam and Dean are involved at all now?" Harry replied. "You said it yourself, everyone's destinies have changed. They could leave it to someone else."

"No matter what, Sam and Dean are tied to the cosmic events that determine our fates, Harry. If you do not help them discover Azazel's new plans, and help them stop him and Lilith, than all will be lost."

"It's a little early for such melodrama, don't you think?" Harry joked, trying to break up the tension in the air.

Missouri chuckled. "Starting now, that's all there is."

Harry nodded. "So how do I help them?"

"I need to know what happened from the moment you were taken to Azazel until the moment you escaped," Missouri informed him.

"And this will all really help?" Harry asked, unsure if he really bought into Missouri's stories. He'd been burned by fate and misguided prophecies before.

Missouri smiled. "I already told you, once you have all the factors it's impossible to not see the future."

Harry nodded.

"It all started when I was taken in a motel room by Azazel's daughter, Meg," Harry explained. The pair sat there, one in bare feet the other a prisoner, and began to detail Harry's time with Azazel trying desperately to put the world back on its proper track before it was too late.

It would not be long before they realized how lost they already were…

* * *

_Later that night…_

It was almost time for dinner by the time Missouri and Harry finished going over his story. Harry provided Missouri with as many of the details as he could remember, but it had taken its toll on the wizard. Harry had been forced to relive his most recent torture in vivid and repeating detail. He'd wished Dean had been in the room with them.

When Missouri's stomach started to grumble, they decided it was time to get food. Harry was shocked when Missouri told him to join her in the house, and actually left the door to his cell open for him.

"Well?" she asked him. "Are you coming or not?"

Harry looked around uncertainly. "I don't think they trust me that much yet, Missouri."

"Well since they're depending on me they'll just have to get used to it, won't they?" Missouri asked with a gentle smile.

Harry nodded his thanks and followed her out of his cell. It had been weeks since he'd seen the other side of the panic room. He knew the way out of the tunnel well enough after watching Sam leaving him and Dean alone at night.

At the top of the steep stairs was a door of oak wood that Missouri pushed open easily enough, revealing the night sky. Harry followed her up into Bobby's backyard. He always had known that the panic room was close to Bobby's from the way Dean and Sam had talked about it. Harry had just never known he'd literally been beneath the house itself.

Missouri paused as they were rounding the outside of the kitchen. Inside Harry could hear a massive fight brewing amongst the Winchester men.

"Damn men," Missouri cursed them, "always fighting. Best case I have for letting women rule the world."

"What are they fighting about?" Harry asked, curious.

Missouri shrugged. "No more visions of the future remember?"

Harry froze as he heard Sam mention the name "Sirius Black". A second later and Harry had run ahead of Missouri and was barreling through the kitchen door. Behind him, he heard Missouri yelled for him to stop.

Inside the kitchen, John and his sons were frozen in surprise at the sight of Harry Potter standing in their midst.

"Who let you out?" John demanded, swinging a gun towards Harry. Harry used his wandless abilities to vanish the weapon.

"Why were you talking about my godfather?"

* * *

Sam eyed his best friend warily.

His father had only managed to keep his mouth shut about Sirius Black for less than 24 hours. In retrospect, Sam shouldn't have expected much more from him. When John Winchester had to speak his mind, not even God himself could stop him from unburdening himself… no matter the consequences.

Earlier that day, when they'd discovered that Harry could escape any time he chose, his father had been less than pleased with Dean's reaction. While Sam had clearly been surprised, it was more than evident that Dean had known about Harry's abilities beforehand. John was taking this as a sign that Dean had chosen Harry over his own family.

John being John, he decided to try and bully his brother into submission. Sam wasn't about to let that happen. Dean's happiness would always come first with him and Harry made him happy. He wasn't going to let John turn Dean away from his friend, even if he was a wizard.

So Sam had sided with Dean, and the two of them had verbally fought off John's paranoid yelling. Unfortunately, losing his first argument had only pushed John into a more desperate state. If Sam had known what his father was going to reveal to Dean, he would have knocked his father out.

John told Dean his "dirty little secret" about trusting a wizard before and how poorly it had worked out. Dean was in denial about the whole thing until Sam had been forced to confirm John's story… and that Sirius Black had been the wizard. Dean had put the pieces together from there.

"How could you do that?" Dean demanded, shoving his father against the kitchen counter. "You just started shooting? Didn't even fucking _ask_ what he was doing with the Yellow Eyed Demon?"

John pushed back. "Sirius Black was his accomplice, Dean! And so is your little wizard whore down there!"

It was around that time that Harry had barged into the kitchen demanding to know what John Winchester knew about Sirius Black, his godfather. If there was one thing Sam knew, this night would not end well.

He caught Dean's eye and saw the same knowledge reflected in his older brother's eyes. If Harry discovered the truth than there was no knowing what he would do to their father. Who were they supposed to side with? Their father, the killer? Or with their friend and Dean's lover, the victim's loved one?

"What do you know about Sirius Black?" Harry asked again, advancing on their father.

John's eyes steeled. "I knew him, what's it to you?"

"He's my godfather," Harry explained, trying to remain calm at the prospect of finally finding Sirius. "I've been trying to find him for years. _Please_."

Sam watched Dean's face turn into a grimace at Harry's plea. It was killing his brother to see Harry so desperate for knowledge and know where Harry's desperate search for Sirius would end. Hell, it was killing Sam, too.

"Hate to break it to you," John answered, clearly not upset with being the one to tell Harry, "but that dog is dead."

Harry's eyes flashed at the derisive term John had called Sirius. "You're a liar."

John shook his head. "I know it's true."

"Prove it!" Harry barked. The lights in the kitchen flickered dangerously.

"Harry…" Dean called to him softly from across the room. "Please calm down."

"Shut up, Dean," Harry snapped, not bothering to face Dean. "Tell me, Winchester, tell me why you think he'd dead!"

John held eye contact with Harry. "Because I killed him myself."

It was clear to Sam that Harry had been expecting to hear that news, that he'd already reached that conclusion the moment John had said Sirius was dead. What was not clear was how horrible his reaction would be.

In a flash all the windows in the house blew outward, showering the air in glass. The metal in the room bent into awkward and unnatural angles. Flames lit the curtains on the windows. The lights flickered again before blowing out completely, plunging them into darkness.

Harry let out an enraged scream and charged at John.

A high-pitched whine filled the room and all but Harry covered their ears at the pain of the noise. Even Bobby's dog barked at the noise from the living room.

Then there was a flash of pure, bright, white light and Harry was gone.

John groaned from the floor. "What the hell was that?"

"Where'd he go?" Dean demanded. "Where's Harry?"

* * *

_The side of the road on I-95 South_

The moment the world stopped spinning, Harry's knees hit the dirt next to the pavement. He puked the dinner Sam had made him up on the pavement next to him. A pair of brown dress Dockers and the cuff of dress pants stood off to the side of him.

"You should focus on your breathing, Harry Potter," the voice above him suggested. Harry followed the dark pants legs up to a white shirt covered by a brown trench coat. A handsome face peered down at him impassively.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, regaining his balance. "Another damn demon?"

The man looked insulted at the idea. "No, I am one of the Lord's angels. I am here to do his eternal bidding. My name is Castiel."

Harry laughed. "An angel? Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"What does an angel of the Lord want with me?" Harry asked, looking around in a vain attempt to discern their location.

"I am here to protect you from the darkness," Castiel replied cryptically.

"Was that purposefully designed to not answer my question?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"I apologize, I thought I had answered your question."

Harry sighed. "Let's try a different question then. Why did you kidnap me from Bobby's house?"

"I had to stop you from killing John Winchester in retaliation for the murder of your godfather," Castiel answered clinically. "Was that more precise?"

Harry swallowed thickly. "I wasn't going to kill that man, Castiel. I was just angry and shocked. The others would have stopped me from seriously hurting him."

"You would have injured the others in your rage," Castiel informed him, as if Harry should already have known this.

"I would never hurt Sam or Dean," Harry defended himself.

"To get vengeance you would have."

"I've never acted out of vengeance before!" Harry denied.

"Your world may seem a great distance away to you, Harry Potter," Castiel lectured him, "but it is not so far from God's love that I do not know of the darkness in your soul or in your past."

"I wouldn't have killed him!" Harry growled at the pesky angel.

"You would not have killed the man who killed your godfather?" Castiel questioned, eyes wide seemingly for effect.

Harry sighed. "I… I don't know."

"Interesting," Castiel muttered. "I was led to believe you were very sure before taking a life."

"Back off," Harry snapped. "I just admitted to you that I might have harmed John Winchester."

"It is fact, Harry Potter," Castiel informed him. "Had I not intervened and taken you from his presence, John Winchester and yourself would have been dead at this moment."

"Believe me, Castiel," Harry replied, "If I'd wanted John Winchester dead than he wouldn't have taken me into the afterlife with him."

"I never said it would have been John Winchester to have taken your life," Castiel admitted calmly.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Dean? Sam?"

"You may deem yourself above taking the life of someone who took from this world one of your loved ones, but the Winchesters are not so forgiving," Castiel replied.

"You're right," Harry agreed, "Revenge is much more their style."

"Another trait you have in common," Castiel added.

Harry eyed Castiel sharply. "Did John really kill my godfather?"

"I do not know," Castiel replied immediately. "That is not part of my mission."

"Your mission?" Harry asked pointedly.

Castiel nodded. "To retrieve you from the Singer household before any lives were lost."

"Are you saying God found me such a threat to the Winchesters that he had an angel kidnap me?" Harry asked incredulously.

Castiel shook his head. "It did not matter whether you took John Winchester's life. It was not his life we were interested in safeguarding."

"If you weren't there to keep me from killing John than what lives were going to be lost?" Harry asked, suddenly uneasy about the angel's choice of phrase.

"Those lives will still be lost," Castiel corrected. "The Singer residence is about to be attacked by Azazel's demons."

"Missouri said that Dean and Sam were too important to let die," Harry pointed out. "Why didn't you bring them here as well?"

"The brothers will survive the battle," Castiel answered. "Bobby Singer and the Psychic will most likely be lost to the cause."

"And you are okay with this?" Harry asked, disbelief evident in his shocked tone. Harry shuddered as Castiel's eyes darkened for a moment.

"It is not for me to decide who lives or dies," Castiel answered, rapidly encroaching on Harry's space. "It is up to those individuals to fight for their own lives."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I just thought angels were supposed to help people, that's all. I didn't mean to offend you."

Castiel backed away from Harry and visibly calmed himself. "My superiors believe that more lives will be saved in this way than by letting Azazel kill all of you."

"You have to send me back," Harry whispered. "Please."

Castiel's eyes burned into his own. "I thought you would be pleased by the death of John Winchester and the others who imprisoned you?"

Harry shook his head. "I may not want John Winchester to get away with killing Sirius, but I know that losing him would kill Dean."

"Dean Winchester will mourn and move on as all humans do," Castiel disagreed.

"He wouldn't have to if you would just let me save them," Harry pointed out.

"If my superiors thought you would survive the battle they would not have sent me to retrieve you," Castiel answered.

"I won't die," Harry promised.

"A vow all humans believe themselves possible of keeping," Castiel noted, "but never succeed in achieving."

"I'm different," Harry argued. "You know I am. I can save them."

Castiel continued his silent evaluation of Harry before nodding, "You are indeed powerful, Harry Potter, but against Azazel you have no chance of survival."

"I never said I wanted to fight Azazel," Harry corrected him. "I just want to be there long enough to save my friends."

"You would even save John Winchester?" Castiel questioned, seeming genuinely curious as to what Harry's response would be.

"Yes," Harry promised, "even John Winchester."

"Because you wish to kill him yourself at a later time?" Castiel followed up, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Harry shook his head. Castiel immediately trapped Harry's chin between his powerful fingers. "I can see the lie in your mind. You would rather he die by your hand than Azazel's."

"I _do_ want to save the others, Castiel," Harry returned quickly. "You know that's not a lie."

Castiel nodded. "You must swear on your eternal soul that you will not kill John Winchester."

"What?"

"If you swear this oath, than I will return you to the battle. If you do not, I will take you to safety and the others will die."

Harry sighed. "And if I do swear the oath?"

"It will be a binding contract between us, Harry Potter," Castiel warned him, lightening flashing in his pupils. "Should you break this promise, I will take you into the fires of Hell myself."

Harry thought of Dean and nodded. "I swear it."

Castiel released his grip and held his hand palm out, as if he were asking Harry to dance. "Take my hand, and prepare yourself."

Harry gripped the angel's hand tightly. A moment later there was the brief sound of fluttering wings and then they were gone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know that this chapter is a little shorter than I usually like to do, but it is basically one longer chapter cut into two shorter ones so that it flows better. Unfortunately just because the final two chapters are a little shorter does not mean the updates will be faster. Life is just so hectic that it's becoming a serious roadblock in my creative process. I miss winter break when I could update every five days or so :( Regardless, I will endeavor to make updates as fast as possible. Reviews, of course, will only fuel this process.

So, Castiel has made his first appearance in the series!!! Sadly, he won't be around for a while, possibly not even in the sequel. This may change as I love his character and like to play with my timelines so that he can be included. For example, he wasn't originally supposed to be in this chapter but I couldn't let the _You Leave The World Behind_ story end without a Castiel appearance. I don't think anyone minded :)

Also, this isn't _Lost_, there will be answers to everything I leave hanging out there. They can only be answered over time and this is a very long-winded series so just keep up with the story and all will be revealed. This will also be one of the stories you might want to reread to make sure you catch everything.

I'm getting nervous that people don't know that there is a sequel to this story because they keep leaving reviews asking if there will be one. So I'm just going to keep writing it in the author's notes in big bold letters like this: **THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL!!!** At least until I'm sure everyone gets the message lol.

More information on the sequel will be available in the next chapter and in the epilogue. If there is anything specific you want to ask about in a review please do so, and I will address it in the upcoming Author's Notes. I'm horrible with getting directly back to reviewers in PM's (I think I've done maybe a dozen replies to the 800 plus reviews I've gotten) so this is your best chance to get answers.

Also, a reviewer asked me if I'm on twitter. In fact, I am! Follow me (at) nativeboywonder.

Until next time…

REVIEW!!!


	15. The Dark Night, Pt 2

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize, and is original material, is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**Author's Note:** I know some of you may be mad that I took so long to write this. Please understand that I had a death in the family and needed to take a break from my extracurricular loves, including Fanfiction writing. Thank you to those who kept up with the story (even after the month long break) and sent such lovely words of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to all of you in appreciation.

All mistakes are mine. I kind of rushed to get this out so there may be a few more mistakes than usual… sorry in advance.

Don't forget to read the Author's Notes at the end of the chapter…

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Chapter 14:  
"****The Dark Night, Part 2"**

"I am the captain of this body of mine,  
I'll send fear into the enemy lines.  
On the ground, in the air or at sea,  
They're all pointing a finger at me.  
I'm at war with the world,  
I'll have to fight to be free.  
Yes, I'm at war with the world,  
Nobody's capturing me."

- Foreigner, _At War With The World_

Dean stared blankly at the space where Harry had just disappeared in a bright white light.

"Where'd he go?" Sam asked, stepping in to occupy the spot where Harry had just vacated.

"Who cares?" John grumbled, "The point is he's finally gone."

Dean didn't even realized what he was doing until his fist connected with his father's jaw. There was a sharp crack at the contact, likely indicating that the jaw and been dislocated if not broken.

There was a moment after John fell to the floor where Dean knew he could stop if he wanted to. But Dean didn't want to stop. Harry had been so patient, so good with Dean and his fucked up family. John just had to keep pushing, keep tearing apart his son's lives until all that was left was him.

Dean fell on top of his father and started wailing on him. Once John registered the fury and the power behind the fists attacking him, he started to fight back. It took Sam and Bobby to pull the two apart.

"Calm down, Dean," Sam muttered into his older brother's ear. His thick arm muscles were put to the test as Dean strained to break free of his hold. Sam linked his arms and squeezed until Dean had no choice but settle.

"I hate you," Dean spat at his father through gritted teeth. John glared back at him, the look intensified by the large bruise over his eye.

"He made you weak, Dean," John explained. "You thought you could trust him –"

"– I could trust him, you fuck!" Dean screamed, interrupting his father. "I _do_ trust him!"

"Because he's blinded you to the truth!" John screamed back. "He's used his powers to make you trust him. You don't know what those freaks are like, Dean."

"And you do?" Dean shot back. "The only time you spent with Harry was underground… where Harry _allowed_ us to keep him. He was trying to make a good impression on you, you asshole."

"You heard what that thing said, Dean, I knew his godfather Sirius," John said triumphantly. "Sirius was helping the demon, just like his godson is."

"Harry would never betray us," Dean declared. "If Sirius betrayed you it was for a reason. I doubt he had to look hard for one either."

"Don't you see what's he's done, Dean. Look at us," John said, throwing his hands up at the room around them. "We're at each other's throats because of him."

"We're in this mess because of _you_, Dad," Sam said, entering the conversation for the first time. Dean's fight against Sam's arms lessened slightly after hearing his brother siding with him. "Harry's had years to try to hurt us, and he's only ever done the opposite. He's my friend, and he's Dean's, too."

"I think we all know that Dean and that witch are more than just friends," John muttered darkly. "But that's my point: Dean would never choose a fuck over family."

"Watch your mouth, John Winchester," Bobby said quietly, his voice low and dangerous.

John seemed to stumble slightly when he realized that all three men in the kitchen, the only people he considered family, were all against him. But like all zealots, being in the minority opinion only fueled his ignorant arguments.

"You'll see," John promised them, "now that he's gone, the spells will wear off. Dean will be normal again… we all will."

Dean flinched as if he'd been struck as he heard his father say he wasn't "normal". Sam pulled him tighter in response but not because he was afraid it would set Dean off on another fight. Rather, Sam wanted to show some sign that he didn't think Dean was abnormal, that he supported him in whatever choices he made.

Especially when it came to Harry.

"Nothing is ever normal with us," Dean replied.

John stalked out of the room without another word. Sam released his brother, but Dean didn't try to move further away from him.

"I'll get some liquor," Bobby said, following John out of the kitchen. "I think you're father's had enough though."

* * *

Missouri found John in his attic bedroom, sitting on the floor next to his bed. On the floor to his right was a bottle of amber liquid.

"I wondered how long it would take you to come find me," John said, taking a swig right from the bottle.

"I don't think anyone else in the house really wants to find you, John Winchester," Missouri said hotly. "You damn fool."

John nodded. "If you're here to kick me, I'd rather do that later."

"I'd be right to kick you, a right good one where the sun don't shine," Missouri snapped, taking a seat on the bed. She snatched the bottle from his hand and took a sip herself. "But I'm only here to knock sense into you, nothing else."

"I thought you lost your gift," John said, staring accusingly at her.

"Doesn't mean I can't remember the visions I had before that poor boy's arrival," Missouri replied.

"Poor boy?" John echoed, disbelief evident in his voice. "You, of all people, are defending him? After he took away your sight?"

Missouri shook her head in disappointment. "Potter didn't take my sight, he simply started the chain of events that led to it. He's a good soul, John, you should be proud Dean found such a worthy mate."

"He's not Dean's mate."

"Really?" Missouri chuckled. "From what I've overheard that's about all they have time to do."

John scowled. "It's not right."

"What disgusts you more, John?" Missouri asked, honestly interested. "That your eldest is spending his nights with a man or that the man is a Wizard?"

"Dean deserves better."

"Better than someone who loves him?" Missouri pressed him. "Better than someone who would rather let his godfather's killer go free than hurt Dean? That boy would die for your son."

John let his hunter face falter for a moment, but it was long enough for Missouri to see the turmoil and pain beneath. John turned to look up at Missouri, desperation lacing his aging features.

"What if he's playing him the way Black played me? Dean and Sam might hate me for it, but I'm keeping them safe."

Missouri cupped his face gently. "Safe from what, honey?"

"From having to make choices like the one I made all those years ago," John confessed. "Deciding whether to kill your best friend or not."

"I always wondered what happened to Black," admitted Missouri. "One day the two of you were hunting down that demon, and the next…"

John nodded. "It's the only time I ever doubted myself."

"And now?"

John's turned away, his features hardening again. "I'm sure."

Before Missouri could respond, a door slammed downstairs and someone started pounding up the stairs.

Bobby's gruff voice began shouting the warning. "DEMONS!"

* * *

"Goddamn, smoky-eyed bastards think they can come onto _my _property," Bobby said angrily as he loaded yet another shotgun. "Well they can go right back to Hell."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam said as he and Dean ran into the living room.

"What have we got?" Dean asked, already going to the living room window to peek out of the dark curtains. "Where are they coming from?"

"Won't be able to see them yet, idjit," Bobby admonished him, handing Sam some bullets and directing him to the gun closet in the kitchen. "One of them set off a perimeter trap of mine. It's a few miles out."

"Perimeter trap?" Sam asked.

"How do you think I always know when you boys are coming up the road?" Bobby replied with a grin. "Now get your father and start boarding up the windows. They'll be here soon enough."

"How many?" John asked, striding down the staircase with Missouri in tow.

Bobby shrugged. "They set off one in the east as well, so at least two. More than likely a lot more."

John turned to Missouri. "You see any of this before everything went lights out?"

Missouri shook her head. "Only a slight probability. Never thought it would actually come to pass though."

"Well, clearly, it has so what do you know?"

Missouri paled. "If what I think is about to happen, is really about to happen, than we're going to need a lot more hunters."

John grunted angrily. "How many, Missouri?"

"All of the demons under Azazel that he could gather," Missouri answered. "Which is probably why he waited so long to come after you."

"Us," Sam corrected her. "You're here now, too."

"All this chit chat is great, guys," Dean said sarcastically. "But any chance we could get around to an actual plan sometime soon? Or should we just kiss our asses goodbye?"

"The panic room," Sam said immediately. "That's what it's meant for right?"

Bobby shook his head. "It would be mighty cramped. There's only one cot."

"I know Sam's a big dude, but I'm willing to squeeze if it means life," Dean remarked, throwing a grin at his brother.

"That's not the real problem," Bobby cut in before Sam could retaliate. "We moved all of the supplies out of the panic room while we were keeping Harry locked up. We wouldn't last a week in there."

"Good going, Dad," Dean spat.

"We don't have time for this, Dean," John rebuked him. "Let's live through this thing first. Then you can hate me all you want."

"Deal."

"If you two are done?" Bobby snapped angrily. "Missouri you help Sam board up the house. John will go to the roof and see if he can get a better look at our friends. Feel free to start playing sniper if you can, John. I'll keep loading the ammo while Dean starts packing emergency rations."

As Dean made his way to the kitchen he couldn't help but think how glad he was that Harry wasn't there. That he was safe… wherever he was in the world.

* * *

Harry and Castiel appeared on the outskirts of Bobby Singer's property where a small grouping of trees was situated. Harry could just make out the junk piles in the distance. He was just about to ask Castiel why they didn't return to the house, when Castiel made a silencing motion.

Castiel pointed at the closest junk pile. Harry frowned and followed Castiel's outstretched finger. At first he couldn't see much of anything, but then the clouds stopped blocking the moon. Moonlight filled the open terrain and Harry saw figures moving stealthily into the junkyard.

"These are some of Azazel's most devout demonic followers," Castiel whispered into Harry's ear. Harry jumped; not having realized how close the angel had come.

"I thought there would be more," Harry admitted quietly.

"Oh, there are," Castiel said, as uncaring as if he were commenting on the weather and not on enemy troops. "These are the last to arrive."

Gunshots could be heard coming from the direction of Bobby's house. Two pinpricks of light, which Harry could only assume to be Molotov Cocktails, turned into brighter lights. They were Sam's specialty.

"I have to get in there," Harry said, already moving to exit the protection of the trees and into the junkyard. Castiel's firm grip on his arm kept him in place.

"Not yet," the angel ordered. "You must let them thin the enemy's forces before you give up the element of surprise."

"And what if Dean is killed while I'm waiting?" Harry demanded angrily, snatching his arm from Castiel's grasp.

"You cannot protect him forever," Castiel replied calmly. "Dean Winchester is an excellent hunter. He will take care of himself."

"I would rather not anyone be killed," Harry said.

"Sometimes not even God can sway the fates mortals create for themselves. Especially those that lead to death," the angel answered. "You should not believe it to be in your control either, Harry Potter."

In the distance there was a volley of gunfire.

"Like hell it isn't."

* * *

The box of ammunition was low enough that Dean could start to see the bottom of the box beneath the ammo.

"We're going to have to think of a Plan B," he shouted to the others. _And soon_.

Half an hour ago they'd been forced to retreat back into the house. John hadn't wanted to give up their perimeter around the house, but they'd had no choice. The demons had moved in close enough to start fighting one on one with the hunters and that put them at a distinct disadvantage.

Now they were running out of ammunition and it was only a matter of time before one of the demons broke a hole in the wall large enough to climb through. Dean was sure that if not for John's sniper nest on the roof, they would have already been overrun. Although, even that advantage had been relinquished to the enemy.

"Agreed," Bobby shouted back before firing his shotgun into the crowd of demons. "We're going to have to make a run for the panic room."

"I'll get the packs," Missouri volunteered, going to get the food and medical supplies Dean had hastily put together before the first wave of demons had sprouted up.

"Good idea, but how are we supposed to get out of here again?" Sam asked. A less thoughtful demon punched a whole through a weak point in the wall and Sam used a nail gun to pin the hand to the inside of the wall. Outside the demon cried out in pain.

"We need a distraction," Dean muttered, looking around the living room. His eyes settled on the table Sam had been using to make his Molotov Cocktails.

He caught Sam's attention. "How much more of that shit you got?"

Sam shrugged. "Not much. Why?"

"Just an idea," Dean replied, giving one of his wolfish grins.

* * *

Harry decided to furtively track a pair of demons into the junkyard, hoping they would lead him to some main point where the rest of the demons would meet. Even if they led him to a point in the yard that the demons crossed fairly regularly than Harry could lie in wait and take out as many as possible at one time. Then it would be up to the hunters inside to take care of any stragglers.

Of course that was his plan until the demons laid a trap for him.

When the two demons Harry was tailing led him into a fairly open portion of the junkyard he started to get nervous. But it was when the two demons disappeared entirely that Harry knew he'd just been following the bait right into the mousetrap.

Sure enough, half a dozen demons – including the two he'd been following – started to appear. The way forwards was blocked by the two demons he'd been stalking. The way behind was being protected by what looked like a librarian and a janitor. A pair of unfortunate bikers, one male and one female, barricaded the only other escape route.

"Nice night for a walk," Harry tried to joke, but the demons merely growled at him like animals. Clearly these were demons meant for fighting and not for their strategic skills.

Harry decided that he'd rather strike first than suddenly be jumped by half a dozen demons. Harry did a silent game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe to figure out which demon pair he was going after first. The two he'd been following lost.

Harry feinted a run in the direction of the pair of possessed bikers. The bikers tensed for a fight, while the other four closed in on him with their guards slightly down. Harry rolled on the balls of his feet and shouted "INCENDIO!" at the two demons he'd been following.

This time it was they who fell for his trap. The two demons lit up like firewood, with the magic acting like gasoline. The librarian and the janitor both had to jump sideways to avoid their flailing comrades from igniting them as well.

The male biker landed a powerful blow to Harry's stomach, doubling him over. When the female biker stepped in to follow up the attack, Harry caught the woman's wrist and whispered the first curse that came to mind.

The demon began to scream in the woman's voice as her hand turned to ice. The curse acted like an infection racing to reach the victim's heart. The only difference was that it froze everything on the way.

With the demon's screams distracting her biker companion Harry charged the man. Harry tackled him into a junk pile, letting the metal and his velocity inflict all of the damage. Harry's cushioning charm saved him from being stuck by any unfortunate metal implements.

Not to be forgotten the librarian picked up a long piece of scrap metal and began to swing it like a baseball bat. Seeing his companion's success at keeping Harry on the defensive, the janitor found a metal chain and began to chase Harry. It was all Harry could do to dodge and not get hit. Eventually the demons would lose momentum and Harry would have time to cast a spell, but that might take forever.

So he decided to do what all great heroes do eventually… he ran.

Harry didn't have time to deal with two pesky demons when his cover was already blown. No, it was more important that he make it the house where he could be of more use. Once Harry reunited with the hunters they could make an attack front.

Harry weaved in and out of junk piles trying to avoid as many demons as possible. All of his seekers training had paid off as his stamina kept him going. Although, with all the sex he and Dean had been having during his captivity, Dean might be equally responsible for his increased stamina.

By the time Harry was in sight of the house he had almost a dozen demons hot on his trail. Which was unfortunate because the outside of the house resembled a scene from _Night of the Living Dead_ more than anything else. Swarms of demons were literally tearing at the walls with their inhuman strength, trying to break inside.

Harry was stuck between a dozen demonic pursuers and the rest of Azazel's forces surrounding Bobby Singer's home.

But, being Harry Potter, Harry's luck could only make things worse. The hunters inside were shooting indiscriminately at the crowds of demons. Now that Harry was being forced to run at the house, he was now included in the firing range.

A bullet zipped by Harry's head and downed one of the demons that were pursuing him. A second shot nearly took of Harry's own skull. Harry immediately dropped to the ground and started firing curses at his pursuers.

Fireballs erupted from Harry's outstretched palms, taking down one demon at a time. But there were simply too many coming at him from the junkyard. It was only a matter of time before the demons at the house realized they had an enemy soldier as easy pickings behind them.

By the time the first demon had reached him, Harry had killed seven of the demons with his fireballs. That left five to kill him, but it would only take one.

Harry's legs were pulled so hard he was afraid someone was trying to yank them off his body. He let out a shout of panic as he was dragged back down the hill towards the junkyard. A mud-covered boot kicked his face on the way.

"Get up, slave," one of the demons ordered him.

When Harry tried to sit up the same disgusting boot kicked him in the side. Harry coughed up some blood onto the soil.

"I thought you wanted me up!" Harry yelled angrily. Another blow, this time from a fist, hit his ribcage.

"That was him," said a different voice. "I want you in the mud, human, where you belong."

Another blow.

"I said get up!"

A hard slap to the face.

"Your master ordered you to stay down!"

A knee to the face.

"Lick my boots, slave!"

A painful kick to his shoulder blade sent him sprawling face first into the mud. Someone pressed firmly on Harry's face, smothering him with soil. Harry started to choke on the foul earth.

"Here's one we can all agree on," said a third voice, full of evil humor. "Die!"

* * *

At the midway point between the living room and the kitchen's rear door, the group prepared to leave the relative safety of the Singer house and make a risky run for the panic room.

They stood in two single-file lines right next to one another. Dean was at the head of the left line and Sam at the head of the right one. Missouri stood behind Dean, clutching the emergency supply packs in each hand. John and Bobby brought up the rear of each line.

All of the hunters were armed with the remaining cache of weapons, which is why Missouri was forced to carry the supplies. John and Bobby continued to fire from the back of the line to keep up the pretense that they were still in the living room. Meanwhile Dean and Sam lit the bottles of alcohol in their hands as if they were torches.

"Everybody ready?" Dean asked, not really waiting for an answer. "On the count of three we make a break for the scrapheap. One… Two… THREE!"

On three, Sam kicked open the rear kitchen door. Dean and Sam led the group out into the chaos of the open air. Sam and Dean began to chuck the bottles with abandon, giving only enough time for Missouri to light the cloth that stuck out of their tops. John and Bobby provided cover fire until the last of the cocktails were thrown.

Fire consumed the world. The demons were forced back by the flames. The few demons that didn't mind the pain simply ran through the fire. These were the demons that John and Bobby shot in the head.

Their surprise explosives would only by them so much time, so the group made the most of what little time they had. Missouri stumbled slightly as they descended the hill leading to the junkyard, but Bobby was right there to pick her back up.

It was when they reached the base of the hill that Sam spotted a small group of demons not paying any attention to them.

"What's with them?" Sam shouted to Dean.

The demons turned as they heard Sam's voice. The one in front's eyes widened as it witnessed a horde of demons running down the hill after the hunters.

It was the last sight the demon ever saw.

Harry, who had been in the process of being suffocated by these demons, wasted no time in using this distraction. He held out both hands and blasted the demons to kingdom come. By the time the flames died there was nothing left of the demon but ashes and mud.

"Harry?"

Harry jerked his attention to the hunters that had distracted his captors. He smiled when he recognized Dean's voice.

"Harry run!"

As the hunters disappeared into the stacks of junk, a fresh wave of demons tumbled down the hill after them. Harry tried to run after them but his magic had yet to heal all of his injuries. He jogged through the pain, wheezing until his broken rib finally healed.

When he finally caught up to the hunters they were surrounded by the demonic mob. Anger was cemented in every demon face. Every set of eyes was filled with black smoke. The hunters were clearly out of ammunition.

_So why hadn't the demons moved in for the kill yet?_ Harry wondered. Not that he wasn't relieved to see that they hadn't done so.

That's when Harry saw him. On the far side of the mob, the crowds were parting to create a walkway. Sure enough, Azazel, in all his dark glory, was making his way through his demon followers and to the group of hunters.

"Hello, John," the demon said, his yellow eyes appearing like a crocodile's second set of eyes would. "What a lovely evening for bloodshed."

"I think it could use a little more," John quipped. "Want to volunteer?"

Azazel chuckled. "Not until we've resolved our little… situation."

"Situation?" John echoed. "What situation?"

"You have something I want," Azazel explained. "To be honest, you have several items I desire. Though, at the current time, I'm willing to settle for just the Colt."

"If it's a gun you wanted, there's plenty in the house," Dean interrupted. "Or I could shove this one right up your –"

"Dean!" Bobby cut him off.

Azazel merely laughed. "Such bravado in this one. I can see why young Harry took a liking to him."

Harry could almost hear the wheels turning in John's head at _that_ comment. Harry was hardly surprised when the first words out of Daddy Winchester's mouth were, "So you _are_ working together!"

Azazel's eyes widened in surprise, but he gave no other indication of whether he was confirming or denying the accusation. Most likely he was amused to see the great John Winchester's paranoia getting the best of him.

"I'll tell you what," Azazel said, stepping closer to the group. "You give me the Colt and I'll tell you everything you want to know about our witch friend. I'll even let you live."

"I don't make deals with the devil," John spat.

"You flatter me, John," Azazel replied. "But I think we both know I'm not quite up to Lucifer's standards… at least, not yet."

Both John and Azazel looked at Sam. John looked away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Azazel gave him a triumphant grin before backing further towards the demon side of the crowd.

That's when Harry got his idea. If only he could get Azazel to go right into the crowd of demons, it just might work. Regardless he didn't see any other way out for the hunters.

Harry began to pull at the pools of magic he had locked away. Every ounce of magical reserves he had began to tie together. He used his Occlumency skills to block out the rest of the world and just focus.

In his mind he created a replica of the world around him, namely, the junkyard. He tried to pull in as many of the details as he could to make the design as identical as possible. Albus always told him that the more he could add to the mental image the better his magic would react to the surrounding once unleashed.

Harry imagined that he had spider webs of magic to work with. He began to attach pieces of the web to the piles of cars and trash that had built small hills around the site. He then linked it to the next row and the one beyond that. He continued to loop and tense and string his magical webs until he had the construct around him.

When he opened his eyes he began to slowly loosen his ties on his magic. The hot, thick mass of power that was produced began to waft invisibly through the air. The anchors of the web found the same place in the real world as they had in Harry's imagination. Within minutes everything was in place.

Harry just hoped that he didn't end up hurting any of his friends in the process.

"For the last time, I'm not giving you that gun!" John shouted.

_Shit_, Harry thought. _Some serious time must have passed._

Clearly the negotiation side of things was coming to an end. Azazel was looking less amused and more bored. It would only be a matter of time now before…

"Look around you, John," Azazel instructed him sternly. "This is the end of the road. The closing chapter of our feud. You, your friends, and your sons will be torn limb from limb by _my_ friends."

John, for the first time since Harry had known him, actually looked defeated. He stared for a long time at his sons.

"Dad?" Sam asked worriedly.

"You boys know how much I… how proud I am, right?"

"Of course," Sam said. Dean nodded reluctantly.

"Are you really prepared to watch your sons die, John?" Azazel asked. "Over a gun?"

Harry's stomach churned at the thought. He imagined it must be even more tempting for John to give up the gun more than ever. At that moment Harry knew that John would give Azazel the gun. Of course he would, because Azazel was right… without Harry it would really be the end of the road for the Winchesters. John Winchester would do anything to save his sons, absolutely anything.

But Harry _was_ there. And he wasn't waiting another second.

Just as John opened his mouth to give in to Azazel, used his wandless magic to feel for the "reins" of the spider web. When he had a firm magical grasp on them, he tested their placement by giving a slight tug. All around the mob small pieces of junk appeared to shiver. A soda can even rolled off a car's hood and fell to the ground behind one of the demons.

Harry cast the strongest _protego_ charm he could around the hunters. Unfortunately its protection would be weakened because it had to fit around such a large crowd of people.

Azazel sensed the use of magic around the hunters and began to shout a warning, but Harry beat him to the punch. Harry pulled on his magical web with all of his strength. Whole cars, dumpsters, scraps of metal, and more began to tumble towards the center of the junkyard. The unlucky demons on the edges were crushed by the falling tons of metal. Those closest to the hunters were luckier and began to flee their possessed hosts in their smoke-like forms.

As Harry looked up, the sky appeared to have a cloud of pure black that was pulsating against the wind.

"What the hell just happened?" Bobby asked, as he patted himself looking for wounds from flying metal shrapnel.

"Looks like the whole junkyard came down on them," Sam noted. He grimaced at the trail of blood that was leaking out of the implosion site.

"Ten bucks says we have a certain witch-boy to thank," Missouri said shakily, staring at the metal that should have crushed them. John huffed but otherwise wisely kept quiet.

"Make it a case of beer," Dean said with a grin.

"Did he have to destroy the whole damn thing?" Bobby asked wryly.

"Would you rather I let them kill you, Bobby?" Harry's voice called from beyond the circle of destruction that trapped the hunters.

From outside the circle Harry began to magically move the metal heaps and bodies that littered the junkyard. Eventually he created enough of a path so that they could walk single file from the center of the circle. When the last car was moved out of the way, Harry greeted them with a smile.

"Hey, Harry," Dean greeted calmly, his gigantic grin betraying his true reaction.

"Hey, Dean," Harry replied, looking faux casual.

"You two are ridiculous," Bobby huffed, pushing past Harry and walking steadily away from the destruction. "And you're cleaning this up tomorrow."

Harry laughed but the pain in his ribs hadn't faded yet. His face turned into a grimace and Dean was at his side in a flash.

"You okay?" Dean asked, steadying Harry with his hands.

Harry nodded. "Just a little banged up from earlier."

Dean began gently checking Harry over for injuries.

"Dean," Harry sighed in exasperation, "I said I'm fine."

Dean cupped Harry's face in one hand, forcing him to stare into Dean's eyes. "You telling the truth or are you just playing the hero?"

Sam cleared his throat to break up the intimate pose. "I think I'm going to just… yeah, I'm gonna go. Dad? Missouri?"

Dean kept his head turned towards Harry so that only he could see the eye roll he gave in response to Sam's declaration. Harry stiffened slightly at the reminder of John Winchester's presence. Dean's grip tightened and his eyes pleaded with Harry not to react. They remained in that pose until everyone had left.

Well… almost everyone.

"Yes, Missouri?" Harry asked, taking Dean's hand and turning them both to face the ex-seer.

"That was a pretty grand display of power, sugar," Missouri said, looking around at the metal carnage that surrounded the trio. "Very impressive."

"Thanks... I think," Harry replied, smiling slightly at the woman.

"I take it you won't be using such power against John Winchester?"

Harry felt Dean stiffen next to him.

"I… of course, not," Harry said immediately, trying to comfort Dean. Although Harry knew he was lying. He couldn't just forgive and forget, not when it came to Sirius.

"Too bad," Missouri said.

It took a moment for Harry to process what Missouri had said. _Did she really want Harry to kill Dean's father?_

"Excuse me?" Dean barked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Missouri replied, her eyes turning a sickening shade of yellow, "that our witch friend needs some motivation."

Dean pulled his gun out and instinctively stepped in front of Harry. Missouri waved her hand and Dean's weapon was ripped from his hand. The gun went flying in a high arc and disappeared beyond the circle of rubble.

Harry spun around Dean and shot a stunning spell at Missouri. He needed to stop Azazel, not kill Missouri. Azazel deflected the stunning spell back at Harry with a simple flick of his wrist. Harry and Dean dove apart from each other to avoid the streaking red blur of magic. Harry flipped back into a fighting stance and took aim at Azazel.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Azazel cautioned. "Unless of course you'd like for me to skewer your lover?"

Dean was on his knees, his hands held up as if he were surrendering to a police officer. Behind him a long metal pole had its jagged edge poised behind Dean's back, ready to run him through. Harry lowered his hands to show he was complying with Azazel.

"Good boy," Azazel said, circling closer to the pair.

"I thought you'd have fled with the rest," Harry commented, closing his hands into angry fists.

Azazel shrugged. "Normally I would have, but that weak point in your shield was just too tempting an opportunity to pass up. Although I will miss my old bag of bones."

"Kill him, Harry," Dean urged him, grimacing as the metal poked him slightly.

"Harry is smarter than that," Azazel corrected Dean. "He knows that if all I wanted was the lot of you dead, I would have struck while everyone was still here."

"Than why didn't you?"

"I'll admit it was the plan, but then your father gave me such a lovely idea," Azazel continued, smiling proudly. "He honestly thought we were working together. It made me realize that for the first time in our little battle that John Winchester had lost the faith of his troops… his own blood. All thanks to you, Harry."

"That man makes his own bed," Harry corrected angrily. "I didn't do anything."

"So modest," Azazel replied. "But really, I can see how angry you are with him. You're just a tiny little push from murderous rage, aren't you? Don't bother denying it; I've felt that anger myself thanks to John Winchester. He is rather frustrating isn't he?"

"Are you getting to a point sometime soon?" Dean demanded, not liking the direction Azazel's talk was going in.

"My point is rather simple. I need John Winchester dead, but I need that Colt even more," Azazel explained. "You're going to get me both, Harry."

"I'm not helping you," Harry declared, straightening slightly.

"Oh, I think you will," Azazel countered, his smirk blossoming impossibly wide on Missouri's face. "Even if not just to kill the man who killed your godfather than to save the life of the one you love."

Harry's eyes widened as he realized what Azazel was going to do a moment before he did it. The metal pole reared back and then penetrated Dean until the hunter was directly in the center of it. Dean slumped to the ground, screaming in pain. Harry cried out in shock and anger before racing to Dean's side.

"Dean?" Harry yelled. "Dean!"

Blood drizzled from Dean's mouth. His eyes remained unfocused. His breathing became shallow… too shallow. Harry could tell that consciousness was fleeing Dean's mind.

"He's not dead," Azazel whispered into Harry's ear. "There's still time to save him."

"How?" Harry asked, hatred dripping like venom off of his words.

"Convince Winchester to bargain with me," Azazel instructed. "His life and the Colt for Dean's continued life."

"He won't believe me," Harry exclaimed. "You picked the wrong person. He thinks we're working together!"

"You'll have to convince him, Potter," Azazel replied. "Or Dean will be a long term occupant in the pit."

"Give me Missouri," Harry argued. "John will believe her."

"She'll try to stop you," Azazel warned him. "She won't work with you willingly. She knows… things. Things that will distract you from your task."

Harry gripped Missouri's shirt collar and pulled her body in close. "Like you said, I'll have to be convincing."

Azazel smiled and yanked himself away from Harry. "Very well. There's a summoning spell. When the time comes to use it, John will know how to perform it."

Harry nodded to show he understood. Azazel began to walk towards the path.

"Azazel," Harry called out to him. "I want something from you, too."

"Oh?" Azazel asked, amused. "And here I thought Dean's life was enough."

"It is, but I want something to sweeten the deal as it were," Harry replied. "When it comes to it, _I_ want to be the one to kill John Winchester."

Azazel's grin was brighter than the moonlight. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I made a promise to an Angel to not kill John Winchester, though," Harry explained quickly. "I'm assuming you have a way of getting things done without them knowing?"

"Of course," Azazel replied. "I'll take care of it."

Harry turned back to Dean, trying to heal the wound with his magic. Azazel had known how depleted Harry's magic would be after crashing the junkyard. There was no way he'd be able to save Dean on his own. They needed help.

"Oh, and Harry," said Azazel, turning back to face the wizard. "I'd hurry. Dean doesn't have much time left. I'd say… twenty-four hours."

_

* * *

  
_

The walk back to Bobby's was hectic and awkward.

Harry was afraid of removing the metal from Dean before his full healing abilities had returned. So Harry simply made the pole weightless and magically levitated Dean, moving slowly so that he didn't cause further damage. He kept trying to think of some other way, besides Muggle medicine, to heal Dean before Azazel's deadline. There wasn't enough time for his magic to return and Azazel knew that.

Missouri shuffled along beside him. So far she had been comfortable giving him judging looks in the place of a lecture. Harry was sure that her silence would be broken sooner or later.

All he cared about was getting Dean to a hospital.

"You can't just kill John Winchester, Harry," Missouri said, finally breaking her silence.

"I know that," Harry growled. "But if it's the only way…"

"And you expect me to believe that it has nothing to do with the fact John claims to have killed your godfather?"

"I don't care what you believe."

"Well, you should," Missouri replied, grabbing Harry's arm. "Did it ever occur to you that John Winchester is a world class liar? That he might be claiming to have killed a certain someone, but didn't?"

Harry stopped. "Azazel said you'd try to stop me. That you'd try to distract me from saving Dean."

"I'm telling you the truth," Missouri said desperately. "You may not hold much love for John Winchester but he's the only shot you have for finding Sirius Black. Trust me on this."

Harry's resolve flickered. _What is she was telling the truth? What is Sirius was still alive? Could he risk Dean's life on such a gamble?_

"I'll do whatever it takes to save him," Harry muttered more to himself than to Missouri. His eyes stayed glued to Dean's bleeding form.

Missouri seemed to realize that she was losing Harry's attention and thus her argument. "Dean won't forgive you for this!" she yelled.

"He'll never know," Harry replied.

"You can't keep _me_ quiet, Harry," Missouri shouted. "I won't let you make this mistake."

"You won't have a choice," Harry said, stepping close enough to Missouri to place his hands on her head. She struggled but it was too late, his spell was cast.

"_Obliviate."_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Next chapter is the epilogue where we see John's deal. But don't count Harry out just yet… he's got a few tricks up his sleeve. It will also resolve some of the unanswered issues from this chapter, too.

Stay tuned for the epilogue for several reasons. Firstly, it has a killer cliffhanger that relates to _this_ chapter's cliffhanger (Missouri's "distracting" information). Second, it has all the **information on the sequel!**

Also, don't forget to show your support by voting in the Always Hoping Fanfiction Awards. _You Leave the World Behind_ was nominated for a total of _THREE_ categories! Here's the link (just eliminate the space)… http:// always-hoping . 110mb . com

Expect the epilogue to be posted Sunday or Monday!!!

As always, REVIEWS are greatly appreciated!!!


	16. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that you don't recognize, and is original material, is all mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant additions to pop culture first.

**Genre:** Action/Romance/Drama/Suspense

**Rating:** MA (for a reason)

**Warning:** Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry and that J.K. Rowling never published the Harry Potter series LOL. All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

**Summary:** The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

**WARNINGS: Major Character Death & Nasty Trick Endings **

**Author's Note:** So this is it. The first in this series of stories has come to its conclusion. I hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I have had writing it. This is the furthest I've come in writing a story and I hope you'll join me on the next journey in the **sequel**: _When the Lightening Strikes_.

**Please be sure to read THE WHOLE CHAPTER and not just stop reading at a part that may upset you… I promise, you'll want to read the surprise ending… it's, well, a surprise :)**

More information on the sequel can be found in the Author's Notes at the end of the chapter.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

**Epilogue**

"Now I'm standing on a mountain; looking into the sky.  
I see the clouds come rolling in; water fills my eyes.  
I don't know what's in the future; no one can say.  
Don't wanna think about the past; I've got to live for today.  
'Cause I've seen the lightning now.  
I need to find my own way; while I've still got time.  
And I'm ready for the rain to fall."

- Foreigner, _Ready for the Rain_

THEN…

"_My point is rather simple. I need John Winchester dead, but I need that Colt even more," Azazel explained. "You're going to get me both, Harry."_

"_I'm not helping you," Harry declared, straightening slightly._

"_Oh, I think you will," Azazel countered, his smirk blossoming impossibly wide on Missouri's face. "Even if not just to kill the man who killed your godfather than to save the life of the one you love."_

_Blood drizzled from Dean's mouth. His eyes remained unfocused. His breathing became shallow… too shallow. Harry could tell that consciousness was fleeing Dean's mind._

"_He's not dead," Azazel whispered into Harry's ear. "There's still time to save him."_

"_How?" Harry asked, hatred dripping like venom off of his words._

"_Convince Winchester to bargain with me," Azazel instructed. "His life and the Colt for Dean's continued life."_

"_Azazel," Harry called out to him. "I want something from you, too."_

"_Oh?" Azazel asked, amused. "And here I thought Dean's life was enough."_

"_It is, but I want something to sweeten the deal as it were," Harry replied. "When it comes to it, I want to be the one to kill John Winchester."_

_Azazel's grin was brighter than the moonlight. "I wouldn't have it any other way."_

"_I made a promise to an Angel to not kill John Winchester, though," Harry explained quickly. "I'm assuming you have a way of getting things done without them knowing?"_

"_Of course," Azazel replied. "I'll take care of it."_

_Harry turned back to Dean, trying to heal the wound with his magic. Azazel had known how depleted Harry's magic would be after crashing the junkyard. There was no way he'd be able to save Dean on his own. They needed help._

"_Oh, and Harry," said Azazel, turning back to face the wizard. "I'd hurry. Dean doesn't have much time left. I'd say… twenty-four hours."_

* * *

NOW…

The wand continued to spin on the table next to Dean's hospital bed.

Harry had been casting and re-casting the _Point Me_ spell for hours, each time searching for Sirius Black. Missouri's comments to him about John not telling the truth kept ringing in his ears. If Sirius wasn't dead than why did the wand spin? Why not point him at Sirius' body? Why just spin?

It was like the answer was a picture developing in Harry's mind; it was just still too out of focus.

"You okay, Harry?"

Harry gripped the wand and spun towards the door. Sam, who had just entered carrying two cups of coffee, raised them in a submissive gesture. Harry sighed and lowered his wand.

"Sorry," Harry apologized grumpily. "Ever since Azazel got the drop on me, I've been kind of jumpy."

"And protective," Sam added, setting one of the coffee cups on the table Harry's wand had been occupying. Harry took a sip and nodded in appreciation. "You realize you haven't left Dean's side in hours. It's almost eight in the morning."

After Harry had brought Dean's body back to Bobby's the world had turned into a blur of action and mounting tension. The house had gone into an uproar at the sight of Harry literally floating Dean's unconscious form through the smashed kitchen door. Missouri didn't help matters by being slightly foggy from the memory spell Harry had been forced to cast on her.

Though the new memories he'd created for her had helped him in the long run. Missouri now remembered most of the truth. She vividly recalled Azazel using her body to attack Harry and Dean. She remembered Harry refusing to side with Azazel and the offer Azazel made in exchange for Dean's returned health. Everything after that Harry had stripped from her.

It wouldn't do for her to warn John that Harry was going to be his executioner. As long as his magically manufactured memories (say that three times fast) continued to convince her they were true memories than his secret was kept safe.

"That's it!" Harry cried out, his eyes opening wide.

Sam was so startled that he ended up spilling his coffee. "What are you talking about?"

"What time is your Dad coming in?" Harry asked, ignoring Sam's question in his excitement.

"Not until six," Sam asked. "Why?"

Harry shook his head. "No reason. Can you keep Dean company for a bit?"

"Of course," Sam nodded. "Harry tell me what's going! Did you… did you think of a way to help Dean?"

Harry froze for a moment. He'd forgotten that Missouri and he had been extra careful not to mention the deal in front of Sam or Bobby. They had pulled John aside later that night at the hospital to fill him in. Sam couldn't accept sacrifice, especially not on this scale.

Harry nodded and tried to smile convincingly. "Trust me, Sam. I'll do whatever it takes to get Dean back to us. Whatever it takes."

* * *

Harry arrived back in Dean's room just as the clock turned to six o'clock in the evening. John and Dean were each seated in a chair with Dean's bed between them. Sam was holding one of Dean's hands.

"Where have you been?" John growled, seeing Harry first as his chair faced the hospital room door.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Harry held up a non-descript brown paper bag and looked at John pointedly. "Besides, I had supplies to get."

"Supplies?" Sam asked, looking between his best friend and his father suspiciously. "For what?"

"Witch-boy, here," John said, jerking an angry thumb in Harry's general direction, "is going to try some magical mumbo jumbo on Dean. I'm going to supervise so he doesn't turn your brother into a zombie or something."

"Like you know so much about magic?" Harry shot back. "You can't even get me gender right. I'm a _Wiz-ard_."

"Whatever."

Sam rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Whatever you're going to do, do it quick."

"Did something happen?" Harry asked, his anger evaporating into concern. He looked Dean over for signs of trauma.

"The doctors asked us about organ donation," John explained, his eyes and tone hollow.

"Fucking vultures," Harry cursed angrily. For once, John seemed to agree with Harry.

"They were just doing their jobs," Sam muttered. "Please do something."

Harry nodded and turned to John. "We should get going."

John stood and patted Sam briefly on the shoulder. "Keep him safe for me, Sammy."

Sam's suspicious look returned. "You're not going to do anything stupid… right, Dad?"

"Of course not," John lied easily. "I just want someone here with Dean. Someone I can trust to not mess anything up. You and your brother always take care of each other better than I ever could."

"If you're not doing anything stupid, than why does this feel like goodbye?" Sam asked, swallowing thickly.

"Don't get emotional, Sammy," John rebuked him gently. "I've got magic on my side, remember? Your friend won't let anything happen to me… hopefully."

Sam turned his puppy dog eyes on Harry, the same ones that had attracted Harry to Sam in the first place. The ones that showed the inner child within still hoping that all stories ended with the words 'happily ever after'.

"You won't let anything happen to my Dad right, Harry?" Sam asked.

Harry felt his heart shattering as he smiled back at Sam. "Of course not, Sammy."

* * *

Ten minutes later, John and Harry had reached the boiler room in the basement of the hospital. John started scouting out places to draw his symbols needed for summoning a demon as powerful as Azazel. Unbeknownst to John, Harry was using his own magic to inscribe his own runes around the small boiler room.

They each set to work; John drawing his art and Harry lighting candles and centering them around the room. It was almost an hour later before John even acknowledged Harry's presence.

"You're a gifted liar," John said as he painted the final pentagram on a far wall.

Harry shrugged. "I just wish I didn't have to lie to him."

John sighed. "I never thought I would have something in common with a witch –"

"– Wizard!" Harry corrected.

"– but at least someone else knows what it's like to lie to my boys for their own good," John continued, ignoring Harry's interruption. "I just want to know something…"

"What?" Harry asked, melting the bottom of a wax candle so that it stuck to one of the metal plumbing tubes.

"I was just wondering how stupid you thought I was?" John asked, his tone cold. Harry straightened up slowly as he heard a gun cocking behind him.

"I guess a little less than what I last thought," Harry replied honestly, turning to face John. Sure enough John was aiming the Colt right at Harry's head. One shot and they'd be wiping off chunks of Harry's brain from the wall. He didn't envy anyone that job.

But Harry was floored when John un-cocked the gun and set it on the stool between them. Harry's eyes rose in a silent question.

"I know I'm not going to be leaving here alive, Harry," John answered the unspoken question. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… just be honest with me."

Harry nodded. "I guess I can do that."

"You make any other deals with Azazel?" John asked.

Harry shook his head. "Azazel only needs two things from us; your life and that gun. I only need one thing in return… Dean."

John nodded. "I can live with that. Er, I guess, technically, I won't though."

Harry cracked a hesitant smile at John's dark humor.

"Do you really care about my boys or is that just part of your cover?"

"I'm not working with Azazel… John," Harry sighed. "I love your sons. Sam was the first person who was nice to me at Stanford. I didn't know anyone and he just… he made me feel welcome, appreciated. Like less of a freak."

John smiled. "That's my boy. Sammy always did know how to make friends. I guess that's why it was so hard on him to move around all the time."

"He loves you," Harry said, not sure why he was trying to reassure the man he was about to kill. "So does Dean."

"Dean doesn't forgive easily," John warned him. "You break him and he'll never give you a second chance."

"I know," Harry replied softly. "I love him. I love Dean… more than anything. And, as long as he wants me, I'll be there for him."

"That's what I'm afraid of," John muttered darkly.

Harry smiled at him. He was about to respond when…

"How sweet," said a new voice from the shadows. "Such a touching family moment."

John grabbed the Colt from the stool and pointed it into the dark. Harry conjured a fireball in each hand, already taking aim. A figure emerged from the dark in all black, his reflective yellow eyes giving away his identity.

"I see you found a new body," Harry spat.

Azazel twirled as if showing off a new set of clothes. "Fits nicely, don't you think?"

"Let's just get this over with," John said angrily.

"First things first, John," Azazel replied, tutting softly. "The formalities must be observed. I assume Harry told you the full deal?"

John nodded. "The Colt for Dean's life."

Azazel's eyebrow arched. "And?"

"And my life as a sweetener," John answered calmly. Azazel glanced briefly at Harry but otherwise gave no indication he was going to tell John about Harry's demand. Harry only hoped that the demon had remembered to shield them from prying angel eyes.

"Don't worry, Harry," Azazel said, as if reading Harry's fear right out of his thoughts. "We're all alone down here."

John chanced an anxious glimpse of Harry.

"The Colt, if you don't mind?" Azazel asked, holding out his hand.

John hesitated before taking a deep breath and placing the gun in John's hand. Harry watched as John seemed to almost deflate as the weapon was tucked into Azazel's jacket pocket.

"Now restore Dean to full health," Harry demanded, breaking into the trade agreements.

Azazel glared at him. "I believe I have one more demand to go."

"You got half now," Harry argued. "You'll get John once we know Dean's back to normal."

Azazel nodded once. "Fine, it'd done."

John held up a finger, not his middle one, to ask for a moment of silence. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam. Harry could hear John ask a few questions and then Sam's excited replies. Harry closed his eyes, basking in the relief of having Dean back to normal.

Harry slipped his hand into his coat.

"He's asking for us," John said hanging up the phone. "For you."

Harry nodded. "I'll give him your best."

John turned back to the demon. "So… you finally have me on a silver platter, Azazel. What are you going to do to me?"

Azazel grinned maliciously. "Who says it's _me_ who's going to do anything to _you_?"

John frowned in confusion before he realized what Azazel was implying. He spun to face Harry… but it was already too late. Harry had used a silencing spell on his shoes to give him the benefit of stealth.

The knife buried itself up to the hilt into John's stomach. John Winchester's blood began to leak onto Harry's hand, staining his skin and his clothes. The hunter's eyes were wide with betrayal and a surprising amount of pain.

"For Sirius," Harry said before he twisted the knife.

John fell onto the floor, his blood pooling beneath him.

Azazel and Harry both stayed stock still, staring at the dead man lying between then. Then Azazel began a slow clap in honor of Harry's work. Harry glared at the demon.

"You got your show," Harry shouted. "Now get the fuck out."

Azazel bowed slightly in Harry's direction before disappearing into the darkness.

Harry waited until he was sure Azazel was gone before gripping the handle of the knife tightly.

"Hang on, John," Harry whispered into his ear. _"Portus."_

* * *

For the second time in one day, Harry found himself standing vigil at the bedside of a man at death's door. Luckily for John Winchester, Harry didn't give up on people. John groaned and his eyes opened slowly.

"Mary?" he croaked.

Harry leaned closer to the hunter and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Sorry, John, it's just us Wizards here."

John's brow creased in confused. "Am I dead?"

Harry shook his head. "No, John, you're still alive."

"But… you stabbed me," John argued weakly. The memories came back to him in fragmented pieces. "I died."

"It was an unfortunate risk," Harry conceded. "I was confident I could bring you back before your soul entered Hell… or Heaven."

John started to cough as he tried to laugh. "Yeah, I think we both know that would be a stretch."

Harry smirked. "I see dying has improved your comedy skills."

"Why did you save me?" John asked, his eyes finally focusing on Harry's emerald green ones. "I thought you wanted me dead."

"I did," Harry said. "But that's before I knew the truth."

"The truth?" John asked.

"That you didn't kill my godfather," Harry explained. "That Sirius Black is still alive."

"What?" John asked, confused and slightly angry. "I killed him. I put a bullet in-between his eyes."

"Did you?" Harry replied calmly. "See, I don't think so. I think Sirius, himself, put those memories there."

"Why would he do that?" John demanded. "What good would that do him?"

"You'd have to know Sirius like I do, to truly understand that," Harry explained. "See, in my world, Sirius was really important to my parents. When they went into hiding, they asked him to be their secret keeper."

"Secret Keeper?" John asked, confused. "What the hell is that?"

"It's part of a spell that makes someone impossible to find, even if they're standing right next to you," Harry continued. "But it only works by keeping the knowledge of their hiding place trapped within one person: their secret keeper."

"And Sirius was your parents' secret keeper?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he was worried that he'd be forced to give up the information. So they asked a different friend of theirs to have that honor… It didn't turn out so well."

"They gave them up?" John guessed.

Harry nodded. "And my parents died because of it. So you see why Sirius would never trust such a spell to keep him safe?"

John shook his head. "I don't get it. What does this have to do with me?"

Harry stood up and started to pace as he talked. "I kept wondering why my _Point Me_ spell wouldn't work. See, my wand couldn't find Sirius. If he were dead, it should have just pointed me to his body. Even if he was in China it would have chosen a direction."

"But if he were under this charm," John said. "He, what, wouldn't be able to be found?"

"Exactly!" Harry crowed in triumph. "But that means he has a secret keeper."

"Who?" John asked.

Harry leaned down close to John's face. "You, you moron."

"What? You're crazy," John accused. "I would know if I was some Secret Keeper or what not!"

Harry shook his head. "Not if Sirius erased your memories and replaced them with fake ones of you killing him. It's the only explanation. Don't you see? It's the only way he could guarantee his Secret Keeper wouldn't betray him! What better Secret Keeper than one who didn't even _know_ they were keeping the secret!"

John went quiet for a minute. "You said it only worked because the secret was kept by one person."

Harry nodded.

"So it wouldn't work if I didn't know I was keeping it, right?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "Unless the memory isn't completely gone. Sirius was as sly as they come. He would have left just enough buried somewhere in your head so that the spell would keep working."

"Fuck!" John shouted, suddenly sitting up very quickly, gasping in the pain that resulted from the rushed movement. "If I'm not dead than Azazel will know I'm not in Hell. He'll take back the deal and Dean will die!"

Harry merely smirked at him. "You think I'd risk Dean that way?"

John studied the younger man's face before shaking his head. "No. Which means you thought of a solution… one I'm probably not going to like."

"I took a cue from Sirius," Harry hinted, waiting for John to realize what he was saying.

John's eyes widened. "You didn't! Tell me you didn't!"

"Sorry," Harry shrugged, clearly not apologetic in the slightest. "But I'm your Secret Keeper. You're welcome."

"It won't work," John argued. "Azazel will figure it out."

Harry shook his head. "He'll never find you on Earth or in Hell. No matter what spell he tries or demons he asks for help. You're dead as far as Heaven, Earth _and_ Hell are concerned."

John covered his face in his hands. "You should have just killed me! Why would you go through all of this trouble?"

"Because John," Harry explained in his most serious tone, leaning forward. "Buried in that stubborn head of yours, in some long forgotten memory, is my godfather's location. And we're not going to leave here until we've uncovered it. No matter how long it takes."

John scowled at him.

Harry smiled and took something out of the brown paper bag John had seen him bring to Dean's hospital room earlier that night. Harry held it out and put on his most innocent expression.

"Pudding?"

~ Fin ~

**Author's Note:** That's a wrap, folks!!!

Remember this is just the first story in a series. The sequel, _When the Lightning Strikes_, will begin posting this summer. I know that seems like an awfully long time away, but it's really just around the corner. Between now and then I might be posting a few one-shots of Harry and Dean's road trip/sex romp that I mentioned WAY BACK at the beginning of the series… if people would like to see that ;)

_When the Lightning Strikes_ will continue where this story left off. While Harry helps Dean and Sam through the grief of "losing" their father, he'll be getting closer to a different Winchester… John. Shocking, I know, but since Harry is the only one that knows that John Winchester is alive they will be interacting a lot (whether John likes it or not). Trust me it's going to be a LOT of fun :) After all, it's only together that they stand a chance of finding Sirius…

Don't forget to show your support by voting in the Always Hoping Fanfiction Awards. _You Leave the World Behind_ was nominated for a total of _THREE_ categories! Here's the link (just eliminate the space)… http:// always-hoping . 110mb . com

I would LOVE some final feedback on the story. So please, even if it's just a brief sentence, try to leave a review to let me know your thoughts.

THANK YOU so much for seeing this through to the end with me. Hopefully I'll see you all back for the sequel… maybe?

For the final time (in this story), please don't forget to **REVIEW!!!**


	17. SEQUEL POSTED

**Author's Note: This is a special preview of the sequel, **_**When the Lightning Strikes**_**. It has already begun to be posted, but as skyflyte12 pointed out to me, some people may not know because they thought I was going to post that news at the end of this story. Whoops. At least this way you get the first four chapters of **_**When the Lightning Strikes**_** :)**

"And the chains they crash like thunder,  
While the weak ones all retreat.  
Gotta draw first blood,  
Or they'll read your funeral rights,  
When the lightning strikes."

- Aerosmith, _Lightning Strikes_

The projector's light flickered over Harry's head, small specks of dust lighting up as they flew into the path of the light. On the screen a heroic Luke Skywalker's light saber lit up.

"Popcorn?" Sam asked shoving the tub of popcorn at Harry, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Harry took a handful of the buttery food and thanked Sam for the offer. Sam nodded slightly, still completely absorbed in the age-old film.

Harry shared an amused smile with Dean. It had been the older Winchester's idea to bring Sam to the local movie theatre. Ever since John Winchester had "died" both boys had been having a rough go of it. Harry gut twisted at the knowledge that he could have saved them both such trauma.

"You okay?" Dean whispered, taking the popcorn bucket from Harry.

Harry nodded and squeezed Dean's hand. "Popcorn went down the wrong pipe or something."

"You want something to drink?"

Harry shook his head. "I just need to go cough in the bathroom."

Dean's eyebrows rose suggestively. "Want some company?"

Harry smacked Dean's hands in response before sliding out into the aisle. "I'll be right back."

The light in the theatre lobby took a moment to adjust to, but Harry quickly navigated his way to the men's room. Harry's eyes swept under the doors of each of the stalls to make sure they were empty. When he was sure he was alone he picked the center urinal to relieve himself.

He was just washing up when an elderly man with a cane entered the bathroom. Harry smiled and nodded at the man. The man did not smile back.

As soon as the door shut behind him, the man's eyes turned black. Harry tensed in response, calling a flame into existence in front of him.

"Impressive," the old man croaked. "He wasn't lying about your talents."

"He?" Harry asked, letting the flame build slightly. "Who is it that's been saying such nice things about me?"

"Azazel, of course," the demon replied, smacking his cane against the ground in his impatience. "Put the flame away, witch. If I were here to kill you I wouldn't have revealed myself this way."

"Than why are you here, demon?" Harry asked, showing his own impatience. "And why shouldn't I just strike you down where you… hobble."

"Azazel has a message for you," the demon replied, twirling the cane in the surprisingly nimble fingertips of the aging host body. "He wants you to know that he's having difficulty finding John Winchester in hell."

Harry shrugged. "And this is my problem how?"

The demons black eyed swiveled towards the door and the theatre beyond. "Because the sons of the man you murdered are just feet away."

"Azazel and I had a deal," Harry barked angrily. "No one would know what really happened."

"Azazel only has to keep his end if he believes you kept yours," the demon hissed. "And if John Winchester isn't in hell than maybe you didn't keep your end."

"The hunter died in front of Azazel's eyes," Harry retorted. "Even he can't deny that."

"But what happened after?" the demon asked. "Azazel knows of your ability to heal yourself… what of others? Can you heal others?"

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. It would come out eventually that he could heal other people, making it more suspicious if he lied. But if he told the truth now, Azazel might not hold himself to his bargain.

"There was magic bonding our deal," Harry said, deciding on misdirection. "If he breaks our agreement than John Winchester lives again _and _that magic gun of his comes back with him."

The demon grinned maliciously. "And if he can prove that _you_ broke your deal than Dean Winchester dies."

Harry swallowed thickly before extinguishing his flame.

"If you don't mind, I have a movie to get back to."

The demon nodded. "We'll keep looking for John Winchester. For your lovers sake, we better find him."

Thick, black smoke began pouring from the elderly man's mouth and escaping into the air vent above them. Harry caught the man and laid him gently on the ground, before walking back into the lobby.

Just as he was about to reenter their theatre, Dean emerged from the other side of the door.

"There you are," Dean greeted warmly. "I thought you fell in or something."

Harry shrugged. "No, just had to use the loo."

"I love it when you go British on me," Dean grinned, holding out a hand to Harry.

Harry eyed the hand suspiciously. "I thought you didn't like the PDA?"

Dean made a point of looking around the nearly empty lobby, before shrugging. "I think I'll risk it."

Harry smiled as he took Dean's hand, letting the hunter lead him back into the dark of theatre. _Sam probably didn't even notice we were gone_, Harry thought wryly.

Neither Dean nor Harry saw the black smoke leaving the theatre and disappearing into the blue sky beyond.

* * *

**Author's Note:** In case you missed the note at the beginning of the chapter… **THE SEQUEL IS UP! **It's called _When the Lightning Strikes_.


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